Worth A Thousand Words
by ErtheChilde
Summary: Following their adventure in the Horsehead Nebula, the Doctor and Rose take a trip into the past to tie up a few loose ends. While dodging secretive agencies, escaping exploding islands and hunting a doomed ship for an alien parasite, they encounter new (and old) faces and adjust to each other as friends and travelling companions [TSL Timestamp 03]
1. Chapter One

**Summary: Following their adventure in the Horsehead Nebula, the Doctor and Rose take a trip into the past to tie up a few loose ends. While dodging secretive agencies, escaping exploding islands and hunting a doomed ship for an alien parasite, they encounter new (and old) faces and adjust to each other as friends and travelling companions.**

**Beta Reader(s): Irid alMenie. Thank you so much for taking the time to look this over and catch the mistakes I couldn't!**

**Disclaimer: This story utilizes characters, situations and premises that are copyright the BBC (and one who can be recognized to belong to Chris Claremont and David Cockrum). No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelizations, comics or short stories is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan oriented story is written solely for the author's own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All fiction, plot and Original Characters with the exception of those introduced in the books and graphic novels, are the sole creation of ErtheChilde and using them without permission is considered rude, in bad-taste and will reflect seriously on your credibility as a writer. Plagiarists will be marooned on a volcanic island.**

**Warning: _Spoilers:_ If it existed in any form of _Doctor Who_ canon, whether television, novelization, or graphic novel, it's probably going to be mentioned here. For this particular fic, anything up to and including _World War Three_. / _Canadian Writing British: _As a Canadian, I am not all-knowing when it comes to British idioms, sayings or sang. I write what sounds right to my ears and when in doubt, I look things up on the Internet. So I might not always get it right. If I'm way off about something please drop me a line and I'll correct it. Or volunteer your services at Brit-picker. Your choice.**

**DW Canon-Compliance: Takes place between _World War Three _and _What I Did On My Christmas Holidays by Sally Sparrow_**

**TSL Canon:Takes place between _Kindred Spirits_ and _Parched._**

* * *

'_I got you away from that other time, didn't I?'_

* * *

'You're mucking this up on purpose, aren't you?'

Rose Tyler was doing that thing again where the corners of her lips pulled up into a grin and the tip of her tongue poked out between her teeth. It was an odd look, beguiling and the faintest bit unseemly, because most humans didn't really smile like that.

The expression was almost canine, more suited to a coyote or a wolf, but somehow it fit her face all the same. Coupled with the warm note in her voice that suggested teasing instead of accusation, it made scowling at her from across the console a bit of a chore. The Doctor's own facial muscles were already rebelliously trying to mirror the grin.

Not intending to give in so easily, though, he crossed his arms and looked down his nose at her in warning.

Apparently he needed to work on his threatening body language because if possible, Rose's distinctive grin only grew wider.

'You'd think having a time machine would mean it'd be impossible for you to be late for anything,' she went on innocently, even as her eyes gleamed.

'And if time were a linear progression of cause and effect, maybe you'd be right in thinking that,' he sniffed. 'But as I'd rather not get into a discussion of temporal physics with you right now – '

'Oh, so now we're blaming temporal physics for your bad driving?'

'Oi! It's got nothing to do with me,' he protested. 'The TARDIS doesn't like landing too close to herself. It's dangerous. Besides, I dunno what you're getting upset about, it's only a day after you left.'

The "it's better than last time" went unspoken.

'Yeah, except I told Mum I'd be back in ten seconds,' Rose pointed out. 'And hold on – if the TARDIS doesn't like landing close to itself, how'd you manage it when you came back for me the first time?'

'Simple – the TARDIS made an exception because we both knew you'd regret your first answer.'

'So what you're saying is the TARDIS wears the trousers in your relationship?'

'Eleven dimensional entities don't wear trousers.'

'Well, trousers or not, I'm glad _she_ came back for me then.'

They beamed at each other for a moment, and the Doctor knew that like him, Rose was reflecting of the night they thwarted an Auton invasion together.

It hadn't been their first meeting – there had been a few false starts and brief encounters beforehand – but that night changed both their lives. He may have sworn off companions following the devastation of the Time War, but there was an earnestness in Rose that had given him pause.

For centuries, it had been his job to help others at his own expense and he had gotten used to them expecting it. It never bothered him before – in fact, he had revelled in it. It was the life he chose for himself after all.

But after the Time War that all changed.

Rose was the first person he had met in a long time who didn't seem to expect him to bleed for her or the universe. If anything, she seemed more concerned with helping _him_ than the other way around.

Not that their friendship was seamless. There had been a few ups and downs in their six day acquaintance, which had nothing to do with several near-death experiences so much as their respective idiosyncrasies.

He despaired of how maddeningly short-sighted and _human_ she could sometimes be, projecting her insecurities and domestic expectations at him even when she tried to hide it. In contrast, and in spite of her implicit offer of friendship, Rose refused to be overwhelmed by the superiority of his species as some of his previous companions had been. It didn't matter to her that he was a Time Lord and had forgotten more about the universe than she would ever learn. If she had a problem with something he did, she made her opinion known.

Though he feigned annoyance about it with her, inwardly he was glad. Being the last of his kind made it far too tempting to bend or break rules now that there was no one left to stop him.

In a few short days, Rose had become the voice of reason in his distressingly empty mind. While a relief, it was also mildly terrifying because for the first time in his life, his well-being – if only the mental aspect – depended wholly on someone else.

The whole situation made him anxious, which in itself was yet another terrifying new sentiment.

'You sure about this?' he asked, hiding that anxiety in resignation and the slightest note of disdain.

''Course I'm sure. I wouldn't've asked if I wasn't.'

'All of time and space…' he cajoled. 'Or if you're so set on a breather, didn't you say you wanted to explore the TARDIS a bit more? That sounds loads more interesting than _Earth_.'

'Doctor…'

'Just checking to make sure.'

'I promised. I don't want Mum to worry.'

'Then call her. I topped up your phone for a reason.'

'Yeah, and when I gave her a ring, it was a week before I left so she still figured I'd been murdered in the end,' Rose quipped. 'Besides – you said you'd make it up to me for last time.'

He suspected she was referring to skipping out on her mother during their last stopover in twenty-first century London. In his defence, he'd still been working off the adrenaline of preventing yet _another_ alien invasion of Earth. How could anyone have expected him to sit still and chit-chat about new boyfriends and the newest fruit burst muffins at Costa?

Then there had been the dressing down Rose had given him after escaping a holding cell on an alien satellite station in the Horsehead Nebula.

'There's making it up to you, and then there's domestic,' the Doctor protested half-heartedly.

'An apology for being twelve months isn't so much domestic as deserved.'

'I apologised!'

'To me – not to my mum. You were too busy whinging about her slapping you.'

'Nine hundred years –!'

'Yeah, yeah,' she waved her hand dismissively and headed for the door, and then paused. 'You could, er, come up too…?'

'No.'

'So you're just going to stay parked here 'til I get back? Mum'll probably ask me to stay the night.'

'You go ahead. I'll be fine here.'

'You sure? I wouldn't want you to get too lonely without me,' she told him with a smile. Her tone was two-thirds joking, and one third serious.

Rose possessed instincts about people. She sensed when they were hurting and something in her basic genetic make-up made her want to fix them.

'Doubt it'll come to that,' he muttered. 'Got some repairs to do on the TARDIS. And it might do to follow up with whatever poor sod stepped in over at UNIT.'

Since a delegation of their experts had been executed during the Slitheen invasion, he was sure they'd be scrambling to stretch their numbers for a while. They might even haul poor Alistair out of retirement.

'Worse comes to worse I can leave you here for a bit and go tie up a few loose ends.'

During a brief trip to the top of Mount Everest, Rose had told the Doctor about how she researched him after their first meeting. Apparently she had seen evidence of him on at least three separate occasions; not his previous incarnations, but _this_ him.

As he didn't have any memory of being at Kennedy's assassination (not the crowd, at any rate), or ever knowing a family by the name of Daniels (he avoided befriending families on principle, even back… before) or posing for a picture before Krakatoa erupted (his second incarnation had been too busy investigating the existence of Primords at the time), it stood to reason he hadn't done it yet.

They were minor time loops, but the potential paradox ignoring them could cause was not something he wanted to deal with. With no one else to keep an eye out for such things any more, it needed to be him.

Besides, it would give Rose some time with her mother and boyfriend. She had made clear to him that both were a non-negotiable part of the Rose Tyler companion package. If he wanted her to stay with him, he needed to make room in his life for her family as well.

It was an effort, and a bit of a distasteful one at that, considering the persons in question, but if it made Rose happy, he would endure it.

Occasionally.

Except at the moment, she didn't appear very happy. The grin was gone, and she was frowning at him.

'You're not gonna go off on any adventures without me, are you?' she asked, attempting to sound light-hearted but unable to completely hide the unease in her voice.

It occurred to him that she was afraid he was changing his mind about putting up with her and might leave her behind. Despite having no such intention, he suspected why she might think that. Their still-new friendship had so far been so full of whirlwind activity that he had had little time to learn too much about her, or vice versa.

Which was entirely intentional.

But he had learned some, and that some suggested Rose was used to being left behind.

Her father had left her young – dead, apparently, as the Doctor had found out in passing – and her mother didn't strike him as the most _involved_ parent. Her love for her daughter aside, Jackie Tyler had likely tried to fill the absence of her husband with a string of men who never lingered either.

Then, of course, there were the little bits Rose had let slip herself; the conversation he had overheard in the Italian restaurant the night they defeated the Nestene Consciousness, and her stilted confession to him in the alien holding cell. Jimmy Stone, whoever he was, had done his own part in contributing to Rose's trust issues.

So it made sense that she expected the Doctor to be part of an ongoing pattern in her life.

He fully intended to disabuse her of that notion.

'Not so much adventures as just making a few memorable appearances,' he assured her. 'You won't even notice I'm gone.'

'Oh, no you don't, mister,' she wagged a finger at him. 'What if you show up a decade late instead of a day and I'm too old to travel with you?'

He snorted at the idea – she was still young enough to believe thirty was old.

'I doubt that would happen. Seem to be making a habit of the twenty-first century. You know, once upon a time, I could go decades without even landing on this rock? Since you stepped foot on board we've been here every other day.'

'Suppose that means you need to take me to an alien planet next trip.'

'I've already taken you to an alien planet. Not my fault you don't remember it.'

'If you say so,' she deadpanned. 'Anyway, I told you I was signing up with you, and knowing your luck you'd get yourself killed if I wasn't along. You'd better wait for me.'

They both knew that was stretching the truth quite a bit, but the Doctor let it slide. After all, if he was anxious at the thought of not having Rose around to drown out the silence in his head, he could at least assuage her abandonment issues. It was trite, and more than a bit of a human way of looking at things. But as the maddening little primates were all he had left in the universe, there wasn't much of a choice in it.

'S'ppose it couldn't hurt,' he pretended to concede with great effort. 'Always nice to have someone around to say how impressive I am, and all.'

'Yeah, that's not gonna happen.'

'Neither is me visiting your mother.'

'You're going to have to at some point.'

'A point which is very, very far away and possibly non-existent. I can tell these things, you know. Time Lord.'

Rose rolled her eyes. "Just cos she's afraid to come inside the TARDIS? Doesn't mean she won't bang on the doors all day until you come out and she can grill you on whether you're looking out for me.'

'Then I'll dematerialize and go somewhere else.'

'Without me?'

The Doctor made the mistake of glancing up at the plaintiff tone in Rose's voice and found himself facing imploring brown eyes. His promise from minutes early came back to his own ears, and he replied, "'Course not."

She beamed at him.

'So you'll come up then?'

'N –'

'You don't have to stay for tea – just, take it as you proving to her you can get me home on time,' Rose wheedled. 'I mean, if she sees you can do that it'll mean longer times between visits, yeah?'

There was some logic in that, at least.

'Fine,' the Doctor finally grunted. 'But I'm not staying long.'

''Course not,' Rose laughed.

'I mean it,' he insisted. 'Fifteen minutes.' That was all anyone in their right mind should have to take of Jackie Tyler's screeching. He paused, and after a moment of thought added, 'Rickey's not gonna be around, is he? Cos I meant what I said before. Liability.'

Actually, he just didn't want to be around if Mickey changed his mind and decided to tag along to keep an eye on Rose.

There was a reason the Doctor travelled with more females (or relevant locational equivalent thereof) than males over the centuries. Besides being more closed minded, males (or such similar genders) tended towards stubborn notions of over-protectiveness that often got people in trouble. It wasn't a criticism, really, considering he was self-aware enough to know that he reacted the exact same way occasionally.

Very occasionally, considering how much of that primitive behaviour he had trained himself out of.

But the point was, there didn't need to be more of that on the TARDIS than was absolutely necessary. Considering Mickey was more likely to get in a strop and snivel as the world burned, the Doctor was clearly the better choice.

'_Mickey_ is probably at work right now,' Rose said with a roll of her eyes. 'But he might be by later if he and Mum are back to talking to each other. He comes 'round to raid our fridge every few days – least he used to…'

She trailed off, obviously thinking of the year she had lost because of the Doctor's miscalculation.

Guilt over the consequences of that, rather than anything to do with her mother and boyfriend, made him heave a put-upon sigh and throw up his hands dramatically.

'Fine – take me to your leader.'

·ΘΣ·

True to his word, the Doctor only put up with Rose's mother for a quarter of an hour before making his escape. But he was waiting for her in the TARDIS the next morning, all brooding grace and manic grin when she pushed open the door.

'Done with the touchy-feely bit then?' he quipped once it closed behind her, and the familiar hum of the TARDIS shut out the ambient, discordant noises of the city. 'Can the universe continue spinning now that Jackie Tyler's been placated?'

'I had to promise to be back in a week,' Rose replied, ignoring his sarcasm as she tucked the chain with her TARDIS key on it out of sight. She glanced up and noticed his appalled expression, added, 'A week for her. Not for us, obviously.'

'Does she know that?'

'Sort of?' Rose shrugged. 'I don't think she really gets the concept of _time machine_, just like she doesn't really get that it wasn't a year for me. I mean, I tried to explain it all to her, but… ugh!' She threw up her hands and offered the Doctor an unrepentant smirk. 'She just made me swear not to come back missing a limb or pregnant or looking older than her.'

'There's pills for that sort of thing,' he replied absently. 'And if you do end up with anything important detached, as long as we save the limb, the equipment in the TARDIS medbay can sort it out.'

'Oh. Good to know,' Rose blinked. Even though she'd woken in the medbay at least once, she hadn't really given much thought to the kind of advanced medical technology that might be on the TARDIS. The Doctor might even have the cure to cancer!

She shook her head, deciding that that particular thought process was bound to get more complicated than she liked. Instead she asked the Doctor, 'So what'd you get up to while I was gone?'

'Not much. Did some repairs on the TARDIS, had a kip, solved the D'Agapeyeff cypher…' he trailed off dismissively. 'We off then?'

'Definitely,' Rose declared, skipping up the ramp to the console. 'Where're we stopping first?'

'Up to you – seeing as how you wouldn't let me go without you, I take it you've somewhere in mind?'

'Somewhere that's not anywhere near London,' Rose decided; so far she'd helped foil three alien invasions in England and one in Wales and was more than a bit sick her own country and time period. 'Somewhere from Clive's photos!'

The Doctor grinned and threw himself into motion, doing whatever it was that he did to fly the time ship. She'd asked him once if he could teach her, and he'd offered her a vague and slightly insulting speech about why humans were incapable of piloting the ship.

'_Pilot_, Rose, the TARDIS doesn't _fly_,' he'd sneered at least twice now.

Then he had grudgingly assigned her a few tasks to make her feel helpful but which she felt sure were ultimately useless.

Maybe if she paid attention long enough, some of what he did might make enough sense that she could help. For now she simply contented herself with holding on to the nearest coral strut and trying to keep her balance.

The entire control room swayed and shook. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped, and there was the familiar, jaunty chime of a bell.

The Doctor straightened up grandiosely.

'Step outside, it's the twenty-second of November, 1963,' he announced smugly. 'All over the world, Beatlemania is in full swing! The first push-button telephones are being introduced in the United States! And somewhere in London the BBC is preparing to air what will one day be the longest running science-fiction programme in television history.'

'1963?' she remembered the photos from Clyde's basement. 'So we're in America, then?'

'Yep.'

'No way! So once we've gotten your pictures done, can we go meet Marilyn Monroe?'

'It'll be another trip. She died a year before this.'

'Right.' She felt a bit stupid for not knowing that, but tried to cover it up by changing the subject. 'So – Sixties? Does that mean I need to dress up again?'

His eyes barely looked her over before he answered, 'Probably, yeah. Trainers and hooded sweatshirts aren't exactly common right now.'

'What about you?'

'What about me?'

'Don't you need to change?'

'Rose Tyler, I'll have you know this look is classic – it blends in _everywhere_.'

'Yeah, right, I bet you have a perception-whatsit on or something,' she quipped as she headed back to the wardrobe to find something _classic_ of her own.

Once more in the breathtakingly vast wardrobe, Rose paused and tried to decide where to look first. The countless racks didn't seem organised in any specific way. She'd passed it off as blind luck the first time she came in here and found the Victorian dress after a few seconds's casual perusal. It wasn't until returning to find her clothing neatly put away that she'd remembered the way the Doctor treated the ship as if it was alive.

_Does that include picking out clothes for people_? Rose speculated as she once again wandered aimlessly up the spiral staircase.

As before, it didn't take more than a few minutes before she turned a corner and found a rack of clothing that seemed to be from the Sixties. More amazingly, right within her grasp she found a dress absolutely perfectly geared toward her tastes. A sleeveless, A-line day dress in pale mauve linen. Some sort of flower decoration decorated the front, but even if that was a little on the nose, she liked it.

She didn't waste time, shrugging into the garment and the white go-go boots that came with it. She had no idea what the vogue was in 1963 America, but this dress seemed made for her in the same specific way the black taffeta one had been. It made her hips look larger, giving her a more proportional look than most such dresses did, which was nice. And it came with an off-white wool cape that she didn't think would really be needed in Texas, even in the autumn.

She wondered if the TARDIS picked out the Doctor's clothes and eventually decided probably not. He was so unimaginative, and the frock the TARDIS had chosen for her before had been perfect – both for her own personal tastes and the fashion requirements of the period.

So, it seemed the Doctor's stubbornness overruled the TARDIS choices in some things.

'Not landings, though, I guess,' she murmured to the air.

Was it her imagination, or did the constant hum of the ship sound like laughter?

* * *

**AN: **As treat for the fashion enthusiasts, I'll be posting Rose's outfits on my Pinterest. You can find all of them (as I add them) under my Rose Tyler Clothing Ideas board. For this chapter, you can find them here: (This site doesn't let me put URLs so type in the address to Pinterest followed by the numbers below, you can see everything yourself or just go searching yourself

Casual: pin/393713192400111863/

1963 Outfit: pin/393713192400112080/


	2. Chapter Two

'_I got you away from that other time, didn't I?'_

* * *

'There's still a glitch somewhere – the mainframe keeps registering the wrong ETAs,' the Doctor announced as he returned to the TARDIS with a newspaper, frowning at the date. It was a day before the coordinates he had entered. 'Probably some wires crossed in the processors, buggering up the input when I –'

His annoyed tirade came to an abrupt end as he lifted his eyes from the periodical and allowed them to fall upon his companion. Rose stood in the entrance to the console room, arms crossed and an unimpressed expression on her face.

'You went without me!' she accused lightly, though the words didn't immediately register.

The sleeveless, knee-high dress she'd found belonged to another era. A time where a girl with elfin eyes and a pixie's smile had begged him to let her attend a human secondary school. A girl who had accidently led two of her teachers back to the TARDIS. The TARDIS he had locked her out of because he had been so sure he had known what was best for her.

He swallowed.

As far as he was aware, anything that belonged to Susan should still be locked away along with her room. Not hanging in the wardrobe where he – where _anyone_ – might stumble upon it.

'Doctor?' Rose's voice pulled him back from the momentary lapse, her annoyance laced with worry

'Where did you get that?' he asked, careful to keep his voice level.

'It was set out for me,' Rose answered, turning around to show off. She'd added knee-high boots to the ensemble, a choice that was purely hers; Susan had always preferred kid-slippers.

_Stop it_, he ordered himself.

'Does it look okay? I wasn't sure about the hair…'

'S'fine,' he grunted, barely glancing at the passable beehive she'd managed while sending the TARDIS a disgruntled message not to leave anymore of his companions' things out for Rose. They would invite questions – questions he didn't have it in him to answer. 'A bit more 1964 than 1963, but it'll do.'

'If anyone asks, I'll just say it's "all the rage" back home. You still went out without me.'

'Figured if I popped out to get my mugshot, we might spend more time exploring,' he replied lightly. 'Why cut the trip short on account of an assassination? Sort of makes everything a bit depressing, don't you agree? Not that I managed it, but still…'

'That what you're worried about? S'not exactly new, is it? I've seen dead bodies before, Doctor – some of 'em even got up and started walking about.'

'It's got nothing to do with your hardiness, Rose Tyler,' the Doctor rolled his eyes. 'But when you told me about those photos you saw, did you actually see yourself in 'em?'

'Well… no.'

'Which means you weren't there,' he finished. He didn't tell her that he really should have gone off and done all this without her.

'Oh.'

She went quiet for a moment.

Barely a second passed before she piped up, 'But I'm the one who knows where you've got to stand and get your pictures taken. What if you go to the wrong place, and then you don't get photographed and Clive never finds those photos? Then I won't ever track you down, Mickey won't get copied by an Auton and you won't stop the invasion in time. Oh, and I'll never save your life.'

She beamed at him expectantly, and he grinned back. 'Well done.'

'Yeah?'

'Except the part where all I have to do is _this_ –'

He typed several commands into the TARDIS computer, searching her memory banks for all known images related to the Kennedy assassination.

' – and you can just as easily point out which picture I'm supposed to be in and I'll pose accordingly.'

Rose made a face. 'That's cheating.'

He snorted as she came to stand beside him and glanced at a collection of images. There weren't that many, thanks to the disc he had given Mickey to erase him from human public record. What extant ones remained came from UNIT and some other organisation he had never heard of –Driftwood or something ridiculous like that.

Rose's eyes strayed to one image in particular, suggesting that was the one her conspiracy theorist friend had showed her. 'Why aren't you already in the photo though?'

'Because I haven't done it yet.'

'But… these are from the future, right? All of time and space – wouldn't that mean you'd be in them already because you're going to be in them?'

'Nope – because I haven't done it yet in this moment that we're looking at them.'

'That makes… absolutely no sense.'

'It does to me.'

'Yeah, but you're a Time Lord.'

'Exactly.'

'Mental… every conversation…' she shook her head. 'All right, so we're a day early – does that mean we need to skip ahead to the right time?'

'Best not. Like I said, the TARDIS gets tetchy about close landings. We're here, may as well explore a bit.'

'Well, at least we can scope out where you're actually supposed to be standing so tomorrow you know what to do.'

'I hardly need a rehearsal, Rose. Being being seen in the crowd is a lot less complicated than most things we've done already.'

'Right,' Rose acknowledged. Then, she hooked her arm around his. 'Well, what are we waiting for?'

And he was dragged out the door by an enthusiastic teenager.

The TARDIS had landed in downtown Dallas, just near the edge of the business district. The weather was nice – brisk but sunny – and it was busy enough that people milled about everywhere, but not so congested that it was hard to get around. According to the newspaper vendor the Doctor had spoken with, it was coming up on four o'clock. The streets were as empty as they would get until the work day ended.

Busy or not, it was a different sort of crowd than what Rose was used to.

'Oh my God, it's like walking through a wall of hairspray and cigarette smoke!' she coughed as they crossed the street. 'And we're outside!'

'As you come from one of the most polluted cities of your time, that's saying something. No such thing as air quality control in 1963.'

'Or sense of smell, apparently.'

They strolled down the path of what would be the actual presidential motorcade route the next day while the Doctor explained about the various points of interest in Dallas.

As they turned onto Elm Street and wandered past the Texas School Book Depository, Rose remarked, 'So I never really understood the big deal about Kennedy. All I remember about him is he got shot and conspiracy nutters are always arguing about some "second shooter".'

'The education system in your time is absolute rot,' the Doctor grumbled, shouldering past a blond man in a grey pinstripe suit. 'No wonder you've no idea who your own Prime Minister is.'

'Oi, I missed a year!'

'And yet if I asked how David Beckham was wearing his hair?'

'I'm not answering that, just on principle. Besides, we're talking about Kennedy, not Becks.'

'We were, weren't we? Well, to be honest, he didn't do that much, comparatively speaking. He only staved off nuclear war with the Soviet Union, established the Peace Corps and supported a civil rights movement that would have far reaching consequences for people and aliens alike for the next five hundred years.'

'Oh, _only_?'

'Rather good speech maker, too, barring that doughnut comment.'

'Doughnuts and the Peace Corps, what's not to like?' Rose sniggered. 'All right, then, answer me this – if we're here anyway, why can't we just save him? When we were in Cardiff, you said time could be rewritten really easily. And, I mean, living gas creatures are a bit more unbelievable than the president surviving an assassination attempt, so why not keep him from dying?'

'Because it would cause a historical embolism so destructive it would erase countless important people from existence.'

'What? Why?'

'Too much happened because of his death. His survival would completely change history, not to mention seriously damage the universe if it didn't outright destroy it.'

'Okay,' she acknowledged. 'So was there one?'

'Was there one what?' he asked, distracted. He had the sudden yet distinct impression that of being followed.

'A second shooter?'

'Yup.'

'D'you know who it was?'

'Yeah, but you wouldn't've ever heard of him,' the Doctor dismissed. 'Some poor sod manipulated by circumstance and a bored Time Lord.'

'A bored _Time Lord_?'

'Not me – though I've been accused of the crime more than once – and we'll leave it at that.'

The feeling like they were being followed hadn't let up, and the Doctor surreptitiously placed himself between Rose and the direction from which that sense was emanating. It was best not to tell her yet, though, in case he was wrong.

Still, when they walked along the green space that would one day be known as the Grassy Knoll, he casually glanced behind them. It took little effort to recognise the blond man he had bumped into before and who was now following at a safe distance.

He was about to whirl around and introduce himself, when Rose piped up, 'Can we find a malt shop and get a milkshake? It is a malt shop, right? That's what they're called? Oh – wait, never mind, you don't have money.'

'I'm strapped for cash once and you figure I go around the universe consistently broke. How d'you imagine I got that newspaper?'

'Luck?'

'I do occasionally have the appropriate pocket change,' he scowled, considering reaching into his jacket for the sonic. It wouldn't be able to do much, considering the lack of technological interfaces during this time period.

But he could cause a minor traffic incident that would give him and Rose a chance to wander away.

No. Attempting to do that might cause whoever was following them to think he was reaching for a gun or something similar, and open fire. Primitive species did that a lot, and especially this particular tribe of them…

'… underneath the dryer lint, scuba mask and the rubber duck,' Rose was saying.

'The next time we're on Aqualon Four, you'll be mighty glad for that scuba mask,' he replied. He tried to calculate the odds of convincing Rose in the next thirty seconds that she would have to make a run for it.

Incredibly unlikely.

'I'll take your word for it,' Rose was chuckling. 'Scuba mask aside, can we get a milkshake?'

Oh well. Might as well figure out why they were being followed around anyhow, and this would be the fastest way.

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Because I have a hunch we're about to be arrested,' he told her.

'What?' Rose asked, confused. She looked away from the Doctor's face and up at the two men who were suddenly blocking their way. The blond man from before was cutting off their exit, and there was a car slowly pulling up behind. Instead of seeming worried, his companion simply sighed and let her shoulders drop. 'Again?'

· ΘΣ ·

Rose frowned and glanced down at her wrist, wishing she had something to keep time with. The men who had taken her and the Doctor hadn't left her with anything but the clothes on her back.

She felt eyes on her from beyond the one-way mirror situated across from her. Her inner clock couldn't tell her how many, but she was sure it had been hours since they had been escorted from Dealey Plaza.

"Escorted" was the politest term she might use. The minute she and the Doctor had been shoved into the car, they'd both been gagged and had black bags pulled over their heads. Neither had been removed until they arrived here.

Wherever "here" was.

She'd further lost track of time during the various bouts of interrogation they'd subjected her to. She didn't even have the Doctor to look to for support; they had been separated almost the minute they arrived.

Everyone who had interrogated her had seemed overly concerned with her lack of identification. They bombarded her with questions about why she and the Doctor were there and what they were doing. When Rose answered these as honestly and believably as possible, they'd gotten louder and angrier, only stopping short of physical violence.

There was a click as the door opened, revealing who Rose supposed was her latest interrogator. Mentally, she steeled her resolve and tried to affect nonchalance.

_Never let them see you sweat,_ she coached herself.

The woman who entered was a stark contrast from the parade of brusque, bull-headed men that had been firing questions at her since Rose got here. She was young – several years older than Rose, and trying to appear more so, judging from the way she'd pulled her long brown hair tightly away from her face. It didn't work, though, considering her petite frame and the doe-brown eyes that studied Rose with more awareness than she liked.

She smiled at Rose even as she juggled files in one hand and a coffee cup in the other..

If there was one thing living on the Estate had taught Rose, it's that people who smiled like that – especially police – were usually after something.

And so, like any proper Estate girl, Rose leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms defiantly.

'Coffee?' the stranger asked brightly, taking a seat.

'No, ta, but you go right ahead.'

'I was hoping you'd say that. I missed supper.'

'So you're the good cop, then?' Rose offered conversationally. 'The ones before were supposed to scare me, and now you're gonna pretend to be my best friend? Cos that's a bit cliché, don't you think?'

'I'm Agent Kinross. You can call me Moira though.'

'Like we're old mates?'

'Exactly,' her smiled widened, and she put her cup back down; her fingers left ink smudges on it. 'So, what's your name?'

'Like you don't know? You lot've been listening outside the glass this whole time. Not exactly friendly.'

'You're a smart girl, Rose,' Kinross said, not even glancing at the files in front of her. There were probably notes on the interrogations of the past few hours. 'And you don't intimidate easily, or my colleagues would have gotten you to talk ages ago. So let's keep it simple, shall we? I'm sure I can have you out of here in a jiffy. Just explain how you and your boyfriend –'

'He's not my boyfriend.'

'Okay, your friend then… what's his name?'

'He didn't tell you?'

'He just kept saying he was the Doctor. We were hoping you might have something a little more… substantial.'

'That's his name.'

'So it's a codename. Is yours?'

Rose shot the woman an unimpressed look.

'All right. We'll come back to that. Now, if you would explain how two foreign nationals just happen to be walking along the _exact_ route that tomorrow's presidential procession will follow–'

'Must've read it in the paper this morning. That stuff's public, innit? Least it is back home. Otherwise no one'd ever show up.'

'And where is home, exactly?'

'Isn't that in your notes there?'

'London, Powell Estate. Except according to our sources, no such place exists.'

_Yet_, Rose wanted to point out, but simply raised an eyebrow. It wasn't as if she could actually say that without sounding completely insane.

'Not a really convincing cover, if the place doesn't exist,' Kinross went on. 'And what about the fact our agents heard your… _friend_ conversing about events to do with the president? I believe you mentioned a shooter?'

'I… I don't know what you're talking about…'

'Because it sounds to me, Rose, like you know something will happen. Before it's happened. And considering you and your friend also seemed to pop into existence out of nowhere? Something's not right there.'

Rose laughed nervously. 'Yeah, right, that's impossible.'

'We've been watching this block for weeks, and one of my associates watched you both walk out of an empty, dead-end ally. Do you have an explanation for that?'

'You're mental?'

'Maybe. But I've had a few experiences with what normal people would call insane,' Kinross said. She folded her hands and leaned forward. 'I'll be candid. I'm pretty sure you're some kind of mutated, genetically altered human. Possibly one with teleportation or time-travel abilities. Who knows what the Russians are cooking up these days?'

'Now you definitely sound insane.'

'Even if I am? I'm the one with the power to put you away for a very long time if you don't start being honest with me. Now what information do you have concerning tomorrow's presidential visit?' Her expression gentled and she leaned forward beseechingly. 'Come on, Rose, you don't want to spend your best years in a cell. Work with me. We might even save some lives.'

A sudden crash interrupted Rose's concern that she might have accidentally let something slip – something that might change the future the Doctor had told her had to occur.

Agent Kinross was on her feet, no doubt reaching for a weapon. She didn't get a chance before a familiar looking leather-clad arm reached out and touched her forehead with one long finger. She slumped to the ground.

'What – ?' Rose began, but was cut off when that same hand grabbed hers.

'Run!' the Doctor ordered. Her fingers wrapped around his before she consciously thought about it, and she let him pull her down the hall. 'Come on, this way!'

'How d'you know where we're going?!' she panted as they ran. 'We were blindfolded when we came in.'

'You humans, so unobservant – I memorised how many rights and lefts we took, didn't I?'

'Oh, of course!' Rose snarked as they hurried off.

It took a bit of luck and timing, but they managed the escape the nondescript office building before anyone raised the alarm. They didn't stop running until the Doctor was sure they had gotten far enough away and hadn't been followed.

That was the point when Rose finally wrenched her hand out of his and doubled over, panting. 'That was… fun… we should… do it again… sometime…'

'Escape from a secret agency or go on a midnight jaunt through the Texas suburbs?'

'… Both?'

'Guess I was wrong about the Deep South being a bad idea then.'

'Dunno… they're still… pretty alien…' she joked, straightening up. Her face felt flushed and she her blood pumped loudly in her ears. 'How'd you… do that? That thing… back there? Make her sleep?'

'With great difficulty. And trust me, I won't be doing it again.'

From the way he said _trust me_, Rose felt suspicious.

'You went into her head, didn't you?' she demanded. 'I thought you couldn't – You said you couldn't without permission –!'

'I didn't go into her head, I just suggested she was exhausted. Telepathically.'

'So, in her head.'

'Not the way you're thinking. It's more like hypnosis. I would've done it verbally, but we were in a hurry, and she might've shot me if I tried,' the Doctor explained. 'Don't much care for bullet wounds.'

Rose wanted to keep on the subject, but he looked so pale and pained, that she gave him a pass this once. Instead, she changed the subject. 'How'd you get out?'

'Got some luck with the third bloke who questioned me. He brought the sonic with him. Wouldn't let me touch it, but I talked him into accidentally activating a delayed blackout of any nearby security feeds before he left,' the Doctor explained. 'It took about ten minutes to happen, though.'

'Then what?'

'Picked the lock on the door, tracked down my effects before they could find me and came looking for you.'

'What'd you pick the lock with? They didn't leave me so much as a hairpin.'

'Got a paperclip off her when she came to interrogate me after we arrived.'

'They sent her to you first?'

'I'm sure it had something to do with human psychology – same reason you were probably interrogated by a bunch of Neanderthal brutes to begin with,' he posited. 'They see me travelling with a young woman and expect I'll be easily disarmed by another one. Because in this time period, they still think women are idiots.' The Doctor frowned, preoccupied with something. 'That Kinross woman's definitely not, though.'

'Oh! I've just remembered – Doctor, she knew. She somehow figured out that we were time travellers, and that we expect something's going to happen to the President. I swear, I didn't tell her anything, she just –'

'It's fine, Rose.'

'But you said if anything stopped it there'd be a… historical abolition –'

'Embolism.'

'Right – but won't they try to stop it? I mean, they're FBI or CIA or something – won't they go out of their way to protect the president if they think something's going to go wrong?'

'If they were the CIA, I've no doubt. But they weren't.'

'How d'you know?'

'Big important government agencies tend to have more people working there. Except for us and "Agent Kinross" and about four others, that place was empty.'

'So they just wanted us to think they were government? Why?'

'It's something to do with that woman, I think. Something about all this seems rather… personal.'

'She was really interested in what's going to happen tomorrow. Desperate, almost,' Rose mused aloud. 'Like, she needed me to confirm it or something? And she was talking about genetically mutated humans. Do those even exist right now?'

'Of course. That whole business about the drug induced haze of the sixties and seventies? Just the government covering up the things they couldn't explain. After that, they got better at hiding it.'

'So maybe she's genetically mutated – or knows someone who is and they warned her what's going to happen. But she can't do anything unless she has proof,' Rose mused, wild ideas springing up in her head. 'I mean, the government gets a million tips from crazy people every day, right? So she can't just call up the President and tell him to cancel his tour thing unless she's got evidence, right?' Her speech had been building in volume and excitement, but all of a sudden she quieted again and shrugged at the Doctor sheepishly. 'Sorry. Guess it sounds like the story from those stupid spy shows Mickey makes me watch... '

But the Doctor shook his head. 'Not at all. In fact, Rose Tyler, you are brilliant.'

'Really?'

'Couldn't have come up with a better idea. Well, I might've, but I like yours better.'

'What were you thinking?' she asked, curious.

'Nothing much – paramilitary, temporal agency, Zygons – but your idea fits her personality a bit better, I think. In any case, it makes our reason for being here more complicated.'

'Cos if they suspect we're here for something tomorrow, they're gonna be looking for us,' Rose realised. 'And we can't go away in the TARDIS and come back, can we? They'll always be around looking for us because they already know.'

'Exactly,' the Doctor declared with approval. 'Except for one thing.'

'Which is?'

'It's already tomorrow. We've got about eleven hours before the presidential procession.'


	3. Chapter Three

'_I got you away from that other time, didn't I?'_

* * *

It took the better part of an hour of dodging shadows and potential followers before they figured out exactly where they had been taken. Somewhere called Frisco, according to the signage. Even with that bit of knowledge, there was another hour wasted trying to hail a cab and arguing with Rose about the dangers of hitchhiking.

'You do know the latter half of the twentieth century is known for its highway serial murders, don't you?' he pointed out, disapprovingly.

'Yeah, well, if you'd borrow one of the cars we keep passing – '

'You mean steal. Borrowing implies the intention to return the thing that was taken.'

'We'll return it! I don't exactly see you lugging a yellow roadster around time and space!'

The Doctor decided not to mention Bessie to her just then. 'We can't afford to draw attention.'

'Can't afford to get caught, either,' Rose pointed out.

'And we won't, so long as we're careful. But say we did _borrow_ a car – if someone notices it missing they'll call the police. Give them a description. Possibly one of us too if we're seen. Which means the police set up some road blocks and start pulling over every car like the one we're considering stealing. Maybe not just in this little suburb but towards the city as well. Everyone knows the President's coming to Dallas today. Anyone working in law enforcement will be going that extra mile, either inspired by fierce pride or fierce paranoia… What if they delay traffic into the city? What if that delays the start of the presidential procession? I already told you all of that has to happen. We can't do anything that might affect it in the long run, no matter how insignificant if might seem!'

Rose was gaping at him, obviously not having expected the tirade that his refusal would turn into.

'Point is, bad idea,' he finished lamely.

'Nothing's ever simple with you, is it?' she said with a shake of her head. Still, she dropped the idea and fell into step with him on the long walk back into the city.

A walk which involved hurrying into the shadows whenever a car approached on the darkened highway, lest it end up belonging to their mystery agency followers.

'I'm really regretting these boots right now,' Rose complained after about an hour of this.

'You and me both,' the Doctor acknowledged. Her limping gait was not only worrying him, but also making their journey slower.

They didn't talk as much as they usually did although the Doctor attributed that to Rose being tired. Nine hours in an interrogation room was taxing. Once this whole mess was sorted he'd make sure she found her way to one of the bedrooms on the TARDIS.

As for him, his thoughts remained on the self-styled Agent Kinross – if that even was her name.

Determined questions aside, she was obviously very intelligent, and her directness had actually reminded him a bit of Jo Grant.

There was something about her, however, that bothered him. Something in her mental signature that had made him attempt his little hypnosis trick to begin with. Almost as if her mind had already been somewhat weakened by a mental incursion in the past.

By the time they made it back to the heart of Dallas, almost ten hours had passed. Luckily the TARDIS hadn't been found by any of Kinross's people, and so the Doctor and Rose got inside with little cause for alarm.

'Let's get you fixed up,' the Doctor ordered and knelt down to help her ease her feet out of the long white boots; the insides were crusted with blood, and he forced himself not to breathe. He didn't like the smell of blood on a regular day, but the knowledge that it belonged to Rose made him a bit ill. 'Have you good as new in a minute, and while you rest I'll pop out and get my picture taken. Then we'll be off again!'

'It never goes as smooth as that with you,' Rose tried to tease, though that gave way to a wince as she peeled off her nylon stockings. He turned away to give her a bit of privacy with that, instead going over to get the dermal regenerator prepped.

'I'm never wearing anything but trainers, ever again,' she informed him as he helped her up onto the bed in the sickbay, cracking a small smile. The Doctor tried to smile back, but instead winced at the sight of the bleeding blisters around the tops of her toes and along her heels. 'Guess this is why I'm not in that picture, huh?'

'Looks like,' he agreed as he carefully cleaned and disinfected the wounds, contrasting their rough ugliness with the softness of the skin of her calf. He reached for the dermal regenerator. 'Let that be a lesson to you – want to show up in famous pictures? Wear practical footwear.'

She snorted and leaned back to let him do his work.

Rose must have been more tired than she pretended, because once he looked up from his finished work, her feet once more unblemished, he saw that she had dozed off.

He snorted. 'Humans. No staying power.'

But there was no malice or insult in the words, and after a moment of consideration, he draped his coat over her.

_Need to find her a proper room when I get back_, he thought as he exited the TARDIS.

People already completely packed the downtown area. The streets were lined so tightly that it made it hard to keep an eye out for anyone who might follow him. The agents following him wouldn't be dressed conspicuously, and he was sure he wouldn't realise they were there until they came down upon him.

Still, there was nothing for it now, and so he weeded through the masses of people to the area he was supposed to be. He'd have to hope the perception filter he wore was enough to keep them at bay.

Given they were looking for him specifically, the odds of that were low.

There were more cheers farther up the street, indicating that the President's car had turned onto its final doomed stretch. It wouldn't be long now…

Across the street, the Doctor suddenly caught sight of the blond agent that had arrested them the day before. So, he had been right – Kinross and her men were in the crowds looking for him.

He was glad he'd left Rose in the TARDIS. He might not be a fan of bullets, but Rose was the one who could be permanently harmed by one.

Once the blond man looked into the other direction, the Doctor seized his chance and pushed through the throngs of people. Ignoring the annoyed mutterings of people he nudged out of the way, he made it to the spot where Rose had indicated he was meant to be standing.

The car was moving past now, and through the waving masses he could make out the President's smile and Jacqueline Kennedy's iconic pink suit. He was aware of distant camera flashes and judged that he'd managed what he'd come here to do. The cheering around him increased in volume as the car passed, and he held his position until it was quieter again.

He was just turning to leave when the familiar shape of a gun barrel pressed against his back, and then a whisper in his ear.

'Don't make any sudden movements, Doctor.'

He obligingly held very still, conscious of the firearm's nozzle against his spine.

'Did you hear me?' the woman behind him hissed, pressing the nose of the gun into his back even harder between their two bodies.

'Oh, I heard you,' he answered mildly. 'Easy to do with these ears.'

'It's hardly the time to make jokes, Doctor.'

'Or idle threats, Agent Kinross,' the Doctor answered. 'If that's even your real name.'

'You think I'm _threatening_ you?'

'I do, yeah – cos you're not going to shoot me,' he remarked mildly. He glanced surreptitiously around to make sure none of the other people in the crowd had noticed what was going on between them. 'Don't want to spark pandemonium during a presidential visit, do you? And causing a civil incident by shooting an unarmed man in public? You'd be facing an enquiry – more so, you'd lose your job. A job you're already in danger of losing, if you haven't already.'

She made a surprised noise, which she tried to cover with a sudden inhalation of breath, but he wasn't fooled.

'Bit obvious, really, given the elaborate set up. You wanted us to think you're CIA, but you're not, are you? At least, you haven't been in a while. I've met the CIA, and their tactics are a bit more by the book than what you've been up to. Female agents in the CIA don't interrogate possible threats – not in this time period,' the Doctor explained. 'Silly, archaic ideals, really, but give it a decade or so –'

'_What_ – ?!'

'Right now, though, a typical female agent would just be an information gatherer. But I figure from your demeanour and the confident way you're holding that gun, you've done more than spy. You've been out in the field,' the Doctor went on, eyes trained forward on the oblivious and still cheering crowd. 'You've been back to the typing pool recently, if the ink stains on your fingers are any sign.'

He sensed the slightest twitch behind him, as though the woman was adjusting her grip, and continued.

'So, you were out on active duty but then were recalled – maybe you failed and they stuck you back on the bench. But benched or not, you still want to do good. You're frustrated by the fact you're not doing what you can to make it safer. So you set up your own little operation to keep an eye out for what your higher ups are ignoring. How'm I doing?'

'How did you know all of that?' Kinross hissed into his ear.

'I didn't,' he snorted. 'Well, not really. But my dead clever companion gave me the idea and I sort of ran with it. Then, of course, there're your physiological reactions to everything I've said. People have tells, don't they? And don't get me started on how your thoughts are projecting –'

The gun was shoved harder into the small of his back.

'You've been in my head?' she demanded.

'Nope. But it doesn't take a low level telepath to realise someone else has. Someone a lot better at it than me, or I could offer to fix it for you.'

'I don't want you in my head! I want you to stop whatever you and whoever you're working with is planning! And if you don't put your hands where I can see them and proceed out of the crowd, I will shoot you – pandemonium be damned.'

The Doctor sighed. 'Much as I'd love to be anywhere but here, I can't, so you'll have to shoot me.'

'What?' the woman seemed a bit caught off guard by this.

'I'm not here to do anything but watch,' the Doctor said. 'Everything that happens today, Agent Kinross, it has to happen. If it doesn't, there won't be a world left for you to protect. There will be a nuclear war that destroys it all.'

The gun and the hand holding it appeared to waver. 'What will happen?'

He ignored the question, instead asking, 'What happened to you? To your mind? If I were to guess, I'd say something's missing…'

'Memories,' she whispered after a long moment, so quiet he barely caught it. 'Months of my life, gone – and I want them back.'

'Some memories aren't worth the trouble,' he cautioned her. 'I should know.'

'That's not your choice – or anyone else's but mine! And I want it fixed.'

'I can respect that. And if I had the ability, I'd offer to fix it for you.'

'Why can't you?'

'Because like you, I'm damaged,' he told her earnestly. She didn't seem to have anything to say to that, and so he went on. 'There's a facility I know of in this time period. It's not government – it's not even American. Small place, off the northern coast of Scotland. Muir Island. They might be able to help you get your memories back. Or at least point you to whoever took 'em in the first place.'

He finally felt the gun being removed from his spine.

Kinross's voice was a bit shaky when she spoke. 'Who are you, really?'

'That's the question of the age, isn't it?' he replied. 'If you're anything like me, you ask yourself that question every morning in the mirror.'

They stared at each other for precious seconds, and even without his time sense he could sense the time ticking down.

'Moira MacTaggert,' she said after a moment. 'That's who I was, before.'

He blinked at the name and then grinned. 'And I know who you are now and who you will be will be fantastic. But forgive me for saying, you're not really the government agent type. Ever think about a career in the sciences?'

He didn't get a response.

There was a gunshot from up ahead.

Time shifted before the panic set in where every set of eyes in the crowd, even his pursuers, drew to the origin of the noise. It was the diversion he needed, and likely the only one he would get if Kinross's comrades thought he had anything to do with the shooting.

As time coalesced around the event – not quite fixed, but still focal – he pulled together every shred of his concentration to force time a second out of sync. Coupled with the sudden surge of the crowd as people tried to figure out what was going on, he could easily slip away.

He wasn't the only person making a run for it soon as people alternatively rushed after the quickly departing presidential car and as far from the street as possible. Women rushed their children along, worried for their safety, and husbands ushered their wives away. In spite of the general chaos, it didn't take the Doctor long to return to the TARDIS.

Once safely inside he promptly sent them into the Vortex.

'How'd we do?' Rose asked with a yawn as she wandered into the console room, her feet bare and his jacket folded over her arms.

'How d'you think?' the Doctor countered, bringing up the photographs on the view screen. In each of them, he was staring directly at the camera just as the President's car drove by. If he squinted, he could also make out Kinross in the background before she'd snuck up on him.

Rose appeared to follow his gaze, because she asked, 'And what about her? Did you figure what she was doing?'

'Just someone else, looking for answers. I gave her some ideas about where to look for them.'

'D'you think she will?'

'I have a suspicion,' he answered, and then fixed her with a gentle smile. 'Bet you didn't get much sleep last night. If you head down the corridor opposite the wardrobe, there's a hall of extra rooms. I've no doubt the TARDIS already picked one out, just for you.'

'Sounds good – that and a bath,' Rose said with another yawn as she headed out of the room. She paused, throwing a look over her shoulder. 'No adventures without me, yeah?'

'Wouldn't dream of it,' he promised.

· ΘΣ ·

For a split second when she woke up, Rose didn't know where she was.

This room was easily three times as large as her own back home. Unlike the latter, it was not furnished with cheaply made dressers and a lumpy double bed that took up almost all the space. The floors were a smooth hardwood instead of the carpet she was used to. The walls, painted a rich purple, had similar round protrusions as those in the console room of the TARDIS. The familiar sound of traffic and neighbours arguing was absent, replaced instead by the infinitely more comforting background hum she associated with the timeship.

As the last vestiges of sleep ebbed away from her senses, memory returned in full colour and detail, and she smiled.

She was waking for the first time in the TARDIS.

It was a milestone, and she refused to feel silly over the pleasant, buoyant sentiment that welled up inside her at the realisation.

She'd slept a few times since meeting the Doctor, but this, right now – a room of her own smacked of some kind of permanence.

She was a passenger – no, a _crew-member_ – on a bigger-on-the-inside-time-ship. Rose was officially travelling with the Doctor for… for however long he would have her along.

She allowed herself a few more minutes to mull over that reality before the excitement over the day's prospective adventures kicked in and she vaulted out of bed.

She rushed through her morning rituals, barely taking time to marvel at her spacious en-suite, and grabbed the first pair of clothes in her red pack on her way out.

A pit-stop to the TARDIS kitchen gave her brief pause. It was easily the size of her entire flat, and full of futuristic appliances she would likely need the Doctor to explain to her. Still, she hunted down a good old-fashioned kettle and some English Breakfast without getting into too much trouble. Upon brief reflection as she sipped her own milk-and-sugar laced brew, she poured a second cup and mixed in two sugars before heading to the console room.

'Good morning,' she chirped to the Doctor, who was fiddling with one of the large dials.

'Diurnal perception,' he grunted, more to himself than her. 'There's no such thing as day or night on the TARDIS, you know.'

'Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,' Rose rolled her eyes, holding out the second cup of tea she had brought. 'Are you always this charming first thing, or were you up again all night?'

'Hot liquids and wiring aren't exactly good bedfellows, Rose,' he pointed out, not answering her. He still took the cup anyhow and sipped it thoughtfully, his eyes flicking over her attire. 'Bit underdressed for 1912, aren't you?'

'We're not going to 1912,' she told him confidently.

'Oh?'

'Nope. I want to spend at least one day in a place that doesn't have a gaol cell or interrogation room I can get thrown into.'

'So, instead of the relative safety of twentieth century law enforcement, you want to go to one of the worst volcanic eruptions in your history?' he inquired, eyebrow raised sceptically.

'Exactly.'

His expression changed to the game smile she loved. 'Fantastic!'

He practically threw the tea down his throat and began the usual dance around the console that heralded a new destination. Rose was forced to finish off her own beverage rather quickly lest she end up wearing it.

A short, shaking trip and buzzing sound later, and he straightened up.

'There we are – August 27, 1883. The day of the final eruption of Krakatoa,' he announced proudly, opening up a compartment within the console and rummaging around. 'Here, you'll need these.'

He handed her what looked like a translucent surgical mask with some kind of gearbox within it and what looked like wireless headphones.

'What's that for?'

'The mask's to keep you from choking to death on ash and pumice. The buds are to keep your eardrums from rupturing,' he told her simply, pointing to them. 'Also, so that you can hear me when I tell you not to wander off. Two-way microphone in these.'

'That's very… Spock,' she said, accepting the bits of alien technology. 'What about you?'

'I'll be fine. Superior Time Lord physiology – as long as I don't take a lava bath, I can survive in much hotter temperatures than you lot.'

'That's your answer for everything, isn't it?' Rose quipped as they headed for the door, pressing the ear buds into her ears and the mask onto her face.

Upon stepping foot outside the police box exterior, she wished the Doctor had given her goggles as well. The heat made her eyes tear up at its sudden onslaught, and in an attempt to blink them away she glanced around her new surroundings.

The island had once been beautiful – she could still make out the skeleton of the land, ash covered shapes that had once been trees and rocks. There was no more vegetation, just dried and dead remnants, and in some places they had to slog through ash that was almost a foot thick.

A pillar of black clouds towered over the island, kilometres into the air, blocking out the sun so that Rose wasn't sure if it was day or night. Every ten minutes or so the air crackled and boomed with explosions that made the ground vibrate

'Right, we'll have to make this quick,' the Doctor declared, glancing at his watch. Even with the headphones, she had to strain to hear his voice. 'We're a bit later than I expected us to be. Can't be anywhere near here when it finally blows - it's about four in the morning now, the first blast will be around five-thirty.'

'So, how's this going to work then? Do I have to draw you myself?' Rose questioned, following the Doctor toward an area that looked similar to where she remembered from Clive's drawing. 'Because I'm a horrible artist.'

'No matter. I can just draw myself.'

'But you're supposed to be posing for the picture, not drawing it.'

'I can do both you know – immensely impressive.'

'You won't get the picture right.'

'Sure I will, you'll tell me how it has to look, I'll draw it. Police sketch artists do it all the time.'

'It just feels like cheating…'

'Won't matter, in the end. Whatever I draw, you'll remember.'

'It's still cheating –'

'Excuse me, but do you two mind?' an irritated voice piped up out of nowhere. 'Your idle bickering is interrupting my observations – and considering the decibel level of the preliminary eruptions, that's saying something.'

Rose emitted a squeak of surprise as a dishevelled looking older man in too-large trousers and a bow-tie appeared from behind the rather large boulder.

'What the – ?' the Doctor began, putting himself between Rose and whatever danger the newcomer might present.

'Perhaps you're a bit busy canoodling, but if you haven't noticed, we're in the middle of an active eruption!' the short stranger lectured. 'Or did the falling pumice fail to make an impression?'

Rose peeked out from behind the Doctor and her eyes sweeping over the newcomer. Her first instinct to feel threatened disappeared into intrigued curiosity instead.

He was dark eyed, with heavy brows and a Beatles-looking haircut. Though he scowled at them she got the distinct impression his mouth was more used to curling into a wry smile.

_Not really that threatening_, she decided. 'Who are –?'

But her rather appropriate question was cut off when the Doctor suddenly barked out, 'Oh, for the love of_ – _what the hell are you doing here?'

* * *

**AN: **As treat for the fashion enthusiasts, I'll be posting Rose's outfits on my Pinterest. You can find all of them (as I add them) under my Rose Tyler Clothing Ideas board. For this chapter, you can find them here: (This site doesn't let me put URLs so type in the address to Pinterest followed by the numbers below, you can see everything yourself or just go searching yourself

Casual: pin/393713192400417266/


	4. Chapter Four

'_I got you away from that other time, didn't I?'_

* * *

'What am I doing here?' the stranger repeated, confused. Then he seemed to do a double take, like he was really looking at the Doctor for the first time. Confusion turned to irritation. 'Never mind that! What are _you_ doing here?'

'Doctor – you know him?' Rose asked. When it came to the alien, there were other things less plausible than running into someone he knew on a deserted, exploding island.

'We've met,' he grunted, at the same time the funny little man insisted, 'Intimately.'

They glowered at each other again. The volcano continued its ominous rumble..

'Um…'kay. Introductions?' she prompted.

'Rose, this is Doctor _Galloway_,' the Doctor grumbled, putting strange emphasis on the name. 'He's a… volcanologist that I became acquainted with in my travels.'

_Guess he must visit the nineteenth century a lot_, she decided as she offered the older man her hand. 'S'nice to meet you. I never meet friends of the Doctor.'

'Good to know he hasn't changed, then,' Dr Galloway harrumphed, even as he gave her fingers a brief shake. 'Still needlessly throwing yourself into dangerous situations, it seems.'

'Still stopping to inspect every fool thing that catches your fancy, I see,' the Doctor shot back.

The little man reddened, and started to retort, but Rose quickly stepped in lest whatever this was came to blows.

_Superior Time Lord anything my arse. Still a bloke._

'Listen, I dunno what you two are in the middle of, but we don't have a lot of time. See, it's um… really important we get a drawing of the Doctor here, yeah? And then we'll be off and leave you to your observations – or, well, maybe not, cos this place is gonna blow up at some point.'

'You came here for a photo opportunity?' Galloway snorted, shooting the Doctor a disapproving look. 'Couldn't have chosen somewhere more scenic? The Yellow River floods, perhaps?'

'Be a bit rude, I figured, considering Rose doesn't have respiratory bypass.'

Something clicked, and Rose momentarily forgot all about the volcano.

'Hold on! He _knows_?'

'Knows what?'

'That you're a time travelling alien.'

'Of course I know that,' Galloway answered. 'I'm h –'

'Like I said, he's a passable scientist. Probably seen loads stranger than me,' the Doctor interrupted.

Something else occurred to her. 'Hey, how comes he's not wearing a mask like me?'

'Dunno. Might be he's got a death wish,' the Doctor answered distractedly.

'Doctor –'

They were interrupted by a particularly violent tremor and a thundering _crack_ in the distance. About a kilometre away, they watched a split appear in the rock face of the volcano, and a wave of heat whooshed past them. Seconds later, steam and molten orange light spewed violently out of the various cracks in the mountain face.

Dr Galloway swallowed uneasily, and slowly said, 'When I say run–'

'Run!' the Doctor interrupted, seizing Rose's hand and hauling her back toward the TARDIS. Galloway scrambled to catch up behind them.

'Looks like my timing was a bit off again,' the Doctor remarked conversationally.

'You think?' Rose puffed.

'It's not my fault!' the Doctor protested. 'The TARDIS is supposed to avoid these kinds of things!'

'You sure you just can't drive?'

'Oi! I can drive fine, but if there's a problem in the navigation systems –!'

'Might we keep the domestics until after we've finished running for our lives?' Galloway demanded, having caught up to them.

Which was the exact moment that it all went wrong.

There was a dull _thunk_ noise, and suddenly the Doctor wasn't running beside Rose, but crumpled in a heap in the ashy sand. A large rock lay a few feet away, the roughest part of it slick with a dark, wet substance. A substance that looked worrying similar to a thin stream of dark orange trickling down the back of the Doctor's neck.

'Oh my word,' Dr Galloway sighed, 'that's not very good, is it?'

'Doctor? Doctor!' Rose was on her knees in an instant, frantically trying to turn him over to examine the wound. 'C'mon, Doctor, you have to wake up!'

'Easier said than done,' Dr Galloway called over the din, crouching down as well and reaching for the blood covered rock. 'Ballistic rock, ejected from the volcano – if he'd been human, he'd be dead. Out cold, I should think, and a skull fracture at the very least –'

'We have to get him out of here!' Rose cried, eyes flitting about to take in the darkening cloud above them. 'This place will blow any minute!'

'Oh, my word, do you really think so?' Galloway snarked.

'Shut up and help me!'

Rose crouched down to loop her arm around the Doctor's back, while Galloway helped to hoist him upright. The Doctor's lanky form drooped heavily to one side, and as they staggered forward, his boots dragged in the ash and rock.

Dr Galloway was muttering something under his breath that she couldn't quite make out – words like "timing" and "recklessness" and something about the CIA. But Rose was too focussed on the hammering of her heart to really pay close attention. That and the impression of the Doctor's blood against her face and hair when his head lolled onto her shoulder was making her want to sick up.

She had never seen him injured before, let alone unconscious, and even without her barely passable first aid skills, she knew she wasn't qualified to help an injured alien. Especially one that was the last of his kind.

The only chance of helping him was getting to the TARDIS and hoping there was some kind of alien tech that could fix the bleeding wound in his skull.

It was a slow procession through the ash littered island, and even though Galloway appeared stronger than he looked, they weren't moving as fast as Rose wished. The TARDIS was still too far away, the rocks they had hidden it behind not even visible yet.

There was a thunderous, explosive crack, and for a moment the world seemed to spin on its axis. She and Galloway struggled to find purchase somewhere on the tremoring ground, but even as they did it seemed to break apart beneath them.

A sudden hissing roar interrupted this, and a burning pain ripped up the side of Rose's right leg.

'Oh!'

White arced across her vision as she staggered, losing her grip on the Doctor as she fell backward onto the ground. Beneath her, the earth splintered and she only just rolled away before she took a tumble into its depths.

Ahead of her, Galloway swung the Doctor forward, using that momentum to propel them far enough ahead that they avoided the same fate. They landed in a heap about two feet from the chasm which continued to spout scorching hot steam from down below.

'Rose!' Galloway called once he recovered, letting go of the Doctor for a second to look back at her. Dismay and horror crossed his face, and she knew why.

They were separated good and proper now, the gaping chasm between them several feet too far to jump. It wouldn't do to go around either, considering the split in the earth seemed to stretch a hundred metres or so in either direction.

_Wouldn't be able to try anything even if it wasn't there_, she thought in disbelief as she stared down at her leg.

Horror threatened to bring up the contents of her stomach as she considered the angry, oozing stretch of skin that encompassed almost the entire limb. It reminded her of what waxed candles resembled when they got too close to a flame. The escaping steam hadn't exactly melted the skin and muscles in her leg, but it was so covered in puckered boils and blisters that it might as well have.

She was beginning to shake as the pain permeated her sense of disbelief, and she knew her body was probably going into shock.

There wasn't any time.

'Go!' she ordered through gritted teeth.

Galloway looked stricken. 'No!'

'I can't… I can't keep up with you,' Rose gasped. 'You have to go.'

'Nonsense,' Galloway blustered. 'You said it yourself, it's not that far away. We simply need to –'

There was another deafening clap of sound and a tremor that rocked the island again.

'You need to get the Doctor out of here,' Rose insisted doggedly, once the roar died down a bit. 'The ship – our ship, it's only… a few minutes away – '

'We have perhaps that long before the volcano erupts!'

'Yeah - you need to get there! I'll try to catch up,' Rose panted, trying to pull herself into a standing position despite the buckling of her leg, if only to convince Dr Galloway to move. 'But if I can't, at least you two'll be safe!'

'Now see here, young lady – I'm not about to leave you here while the sky is falling all around us –'

'There's no time to argue!' Rose shot back. 'You have to get him to safety. Even if you can't wake him up, the two of you will be fine in the TARDIS.'

The pain was dizzying now, and she found it hard to force oxygen into her lungs. Whether that was from the shock or the ash in the air, she couldn't tell.

'Rose –'

'I don't matter!' she yelled. 'I'm just some nobody, some ordinary shop girl he picked up in London and it doesn't matter if I die! But the Doctor – the Doctor _has_ to live! Because he's amazing and brilliant and… and saves the universe every day! Because he's the only one around who actually cares enough to do it! So please, Dr Galloway, please just take him and go!'

Galloway was staring at her, an inscrutable look in his eye, before nodding.

He hoisted the Doctor back up and shot her one last look.

She watched with desperation as Galloway and the Doctor moved farther and farther away, fighting off the pain trying to overtake them. If they made it around those dark rocks, they would be safe.

At least that's what she told herself when they finally managed it.

Tears gathered in her eyes, a combination of frustration and the acrid black smoke all around her, and she angrily brushed them aside.

If she was about to die, she would not do so crying like a child.

She held onto that assertion until the dark spots in front of her eyes became a solid blackness. Before silence completely overtook her, she imagined she could hear the TARDIS taking off, and she smiled.

The Doctor had woken then.

He was alive.

And she was –

· ΘΣ ·

The Doctor groaned as he came back to awareness, feeling rather like his head was leaking brain matter. The ceiling of the TARDIS medbay loomed before him, and he became aware his ship insistently nudging at his mind.

Something was wrong.

Memories flowed back to him in quick succession as he swung his legs over the bed, nearly knocking into the Advanced Diagnostic Terminal.

'Rose?' he called, grabbing his jacket from where it had been unceremoniously tossed by the doorway.

There was no answer, and the uneasy feeling in his stomach turned to dread as he headed for the console room.

His younger self was there, crawling out from the grating beneath the console, humming. When he saw the Doctor, his wry smile took on an edge.

'There you are, my good fellow! I wasn't able to find your Zero Room, so I was forced to make use of the sickbay. Good to see the injury required little in the way of healing – I suspect you have a hard head.'

'Where's Rose?'

'You've redecorated,' Mop-Top went on, looking around the room. 'I –'

'– don't like it, I know,' the Doctor cut him off. 'You never do. Now shut up and tell me where Rose is.'

'Out of reach at the moment, I'm afraid,' his second self answered grimly, pulling the screen around to show the Doctor what was going on outside. The grainy resolution showed exploding inferno outside the TARDIS' outer shell, and the Doctor felt his hearts constrict. His companion's lack of presence suddenly made horrible sense.

'You left her!' he roared, some wild part of him actively considering laying into the little gremlin.

'There wasn't a choice. It would have taken far too much time to go back. Even without the necessity of returning you here, there's the matter of the massive paradox that had to be avoided – _Doctor Galloway indeed!_' Mop-Top lectured with a scowl. He absently dug something out of his pocket – his recorder – and continued. 'I do hope it's that knock on the head that's addled you, and not old age, because if it's the latter I very much pity myself –'

'If you don't want me shoving that recorder down your throat or up some other orifice –'

'Oh, do calm down, you're missing the very obvious in all of this.'

'Oh? And what exactly is that?'

That I'm still here, being yelled at by you,' his previous incarnation harrumphed. 'If the volcano rendered my TARDIS unreachable, you wouldn't have been able to come here in the first place. The fact that you've been gallivanting around the universe for however long you have been means that somehow, I get back to my ship. And considering you're still here and have access to a fully functional TARDIS…'

'Means I can still go back and get her,' the Doctor caught on, already vaulting to the opposite side of the console. 'As long as we arrive right after you get out of range with me, we can avoid a paradox. Just.'

'Exactly. Which we'll do as soon as we finish dealing with the glitches in the navigation system – honestly, it looks a mess down there. Much as I'm loath to admit it, it might be time to return to Gallifrey for maintenance.'

Pain lanced through the Doctor at that suggestion, and his mental shields clamped down tightly lest that spill over and affect his younger self.

'Not gonna happen.'

'Oh, well, suit yourself. It's your choice if you want to keep landing wrong. I'm surprised the yearometer hasn't started registering months instead of hours,' Mop-Top mused.

'As if you've never got a landing wrong,' the Doctor shot back.

There was a sparking noise from beneath the keyboard, and Mop-Top let out an exclamation of triumph.

'There we go! You can pick up your assistant and drop me off at my TARDIS. We can be gone long before the eruption,' Mop-Top said smugly. The smugness vanished, and he considered the Doctor carefully. 'What possessed you to bring her here?'

'Only came to close a minor time loop,' the Doctor admitted. 'She insisted on coming along. You'll learn there's no arguing with her.'

'She's remarkable,' Mop-Top agreed. 'How long has she been with you?'

The Doctor's fingers skimmed past a stream of Gallifreyan writing on the screen and reached distractedly for a nearby dial. 'Mm, 'bout a week.'

'A _week_?' his younger self repeated, looking surprise. 'I would have guessed a lot longer.' His gaze turned far away. 'She has a good heart.'

There was a beat of silence.

'There's a… brightness to her that I've never seen before,' the Doctor admitted after a moment, slightly uncomfortable revealing such a thing, even to himself. 'Not in a human. And I'm not sure if she simply has a low opinion of her self-worth, or if she comprehends my – our – lifestyle better than most.'

'I have a suspicion she will surprise you.'

'She already does.'

Another silence, although this one was one of agreement.

The Doctor cleared his throat, breaking it off before it could become some heart-warming _bonding_ moment between the two of him. 'So, I'd forgotten about all of this. You're relatively new in that body, yeah?'

'Mh-hm.'

'You're travelling alone? Or – no, Ben and Polly, was it?'

'Yes. They're both in my TARDIS. I left them sleeping when I came out here.'

'Humans. Snorin' their lives away.'

'Such a waste,' Mop-Top agreed.

They didn't speak again after that, rotating around the console to get the coordinates exactly right. Twelve months for twelve hours was unacceptable right now.

Once they rematerialised, the Doctor left his previous self to man the TARDIS.

Darting outside, he discovered their landing had been perfect; three feet away Rose was just beginning to go still.

The Doctor ignored the blistering heat washing over them, trying to steal his breath, and the cracking roar of the island breaking up beneath their feet.

He bolted from the TARDIS and was at her side in an instant.

Even as he scooped her into his arms, he was assessing her condition. Her entire body was covered in ash and her skin was an angry red beneath it. The worst of it was the third degree scorch burn all up her leg.

She'd be fine, of course, provided there wasn't too much ash residue in her lungs, but every second's delay hurt.

He kicked open the door in his hurry to get to safety. His second self didn't look up until after he initiated the dematerialization sequence, his expression no doubt a reflection of the Doctor's. They were both more than relieved that they had managed to get to her in time.

The TARDIS was good enough to bring the sickbay right to the edge of the console room. The Doctor wasted no time in setting Rose down and reaching for the universal antibiotics and tissue regenerator.

It took a bit longer than he liked, especially getting her core temperature back down to an acceptable human level. But soon Rose looked no worse for the wear, barring a bit of a tan. Aware that this would be a bit painful until the drugs kicked in, he gave her a mild sedative as well, before leaving her dozing in the medbay.

He had a temporal anomaly to deal with before he brought her to her room.

He stalked back to the console room, entering just in time to see his younger self lean back in the jump seat and prop his feet up on the dash.

'Oi! Makin' yourself comfortable, I see.'

'Just awaiting your return,' Mop-Top retorted disapprovingly. 'Given your appearance, one would never think you were the type to condone bedside manner.'

'Don't you have somewhere to be?' he answered, pointing at the view screen outside that showed the still rumbling volcano. Now that Rose was safe, his earlier annoyance at the situation was returning fully. 'Off you pop.'

'Beyond the usual unpleasantness that these situations bring with them, you're awfully keen on getting rid of me,' his second self said innocently. 'Almost like you don't want your charming friend to know that I'm you.'

'Say hello to Ben and Polly for me,' the Doctor hedged.

'Ah, avoiding the topic. I really haven't changed, have I?' Mop-Top chuckled, getting to his feet. 'Well, goodbye.'

And he was gone from the TARDIS.

The Doctor stared at where he had been for a moment, and finally exhaled and shook his head. As far as visits from himself went, this had been one of the less troublesome ones.

He wandered across the grating and stood beside the console, blinking as something caught his eyes.

There, pinned to the Time Rotor, was a quickly done sketch of himself standing on the island. One of his Post-Its had been stuck to it as well.

_'I do hope I got the ears right_,' the note said in hastily scribbled Gallifreyan.

"Idiot," the Doctor scowled.

· ΘΣ ·

'And he just drew it from memory?' Rose asked, staring at the sketch in her hands.

'Not exactly a difficult thing to do,' the Doctor answered as he examined Rose's leg the next morning. 'Could've done it myself without us ever going to that island.'

'But then we wouldn't've run into your friend. You're sure he's all right?'

'Yes, yes, I dropped him off safely on his ship with his crew and they are no doubt far away from any exploding islands right now.'

'He was strange,' Rose remarked thoughtfully. 'Nice, but strange. And you never explained why he wasn't wearing a mask to breathe through like I was.'

'Because volcanologists of the time period didn't clue in to the fact they were breathing ash and other poisonous gases. Not 'til years later,' the Doctor said, masking his lie with a bit of truth. 'Until then, they counted on luck not to suffocate. Not that a mask kept you out of much trouble…'

'Yeah, I'm thinking we should maybe avoid the eighteen hundreds for a bit. I always almost get killed there.'

'Noted. But right now, you're good as new. No sign of infection, all muscles in working order – you, Rose Tyler, are fit for duty.'

'This is amazing,' she told him, swinging around on the sterile sick bay bed and examining the unblemished skin of her leg. 'Can't even tell there was anything wrong. S'ppose you really are a doctor after all.'

'I was always a doctor!'

'But you never got an actual degree in medicine, did you?' she prompted.

'Mm… not in the technical sense.'

'Ha! I guess it's really down to all the impressive gizmos in here,' Rose kidded, hopping down. 'You're just the man reading the directions.'

'Hmph – catch me ever unmelting your skin for you again.'

Rose laughed in response to that.

'All right, all right, you're the best doctor I've ever had,' she placated. Before he registered what she was about to do, she leaned up to peck him on the cheek. 'Can we get a move on, then? Lots to do today! Most famous ship in the world!'

The Doctor beamed at her retreating back. It was just like her to bounce back so quickly. Of course, she hadn't known exactly how close to dying she had been, and he didn't tell her. Mostly because he had been studiously ignoring that little fact as well while fixing her up.

He hurried after her, already anticipating the excitement of another adventure as he settled in front of the console.

'Right then – Southampton, 1912,' the Doctor declared, yanking the requisite lever and punching a few keys. 'Lingering Victorian morals, rampant classism and a doomed cruise liner!'

'Just a typical day for us then?'

'Exactly!'

Rose hummed appreciatively from where she hung onto one of the coral struts.


	5. Chapter Five

"_I got you away from that other time, didn't I?'_

* * *

'I never asked – who are these Daniels people anyhow?' Rose asked as the Time Rotor finally stopped moving and the TARDIS came to a rest.

'No idea.'

'What? I thought you were friends with them!'

'Never met anyone named Daniels before,' the Doctor revealed cheerily. 'It's why I arrived a few days earlier, so we have time to track 'em down and make nice.' He glanced at his watch. 'We've arrived five days before the _Titanic _is due to set sail.'

'You sure about that this time? Because the last two landings we were too early and then too late…'

'Well, you know what they say about stopped watches,' the Doctor retorted, brushing aside her good-natured teasing and his own annoyance over the truth of her words. 'Don't worry, I had a chat with the TARDIS while you were down for the count, and our ETAs should be a bit more accurate now. There's a part that needs to replacing, but I've finagled it into behaving itself. For now. After we finish up here, though, remind me to head to Calufrax for some voolium – and don't forget, because I'm liable to. Paralysingly dull planet, so it's likely to slip my mind.'

'Right, cos now I'm your secretary?'

'Companion, remember? Comes with certain responsibilities – and benefits, if you know what I mean.'

'Hm, gotta admit, the health package is pretty impressive,' Rose pretended to consider, glancing down at her leg.

'There we go,' he grinned. 'Well, go on – go get dressed and we'll be off.'

She started for the door and then turned around.

'Hold on, mister – you've got to get changed too.'

The Doctor snorted, 'Not going to happen.'

'But in the picture, you were dressed like the people in this time period.'

'Just because you saw that, doesn't mean that's how it went,' he told her. 'You were right, the other day. When you guessed I wore a perception filter. I don't always need to use it, but it comes in handy occasionally.'

'I bet,' Rose deadpanned. 'So what will other people see?'

'Depends on what they expect.'

'Sort of like the psychic paper?'

'Yes. But not exactly,' the Doctor agreed. 'Psychic paper is more complex. A perception filter is more like a dull gloss. Sort of blurring the information being sent to your visual cortex. Nothing more than an optical illusion.'

'All right…' Rose agreed hesitantly.

'I can show you, if you don't mind the TARDIS involving herself.'

'You mean go into my head? Like with the translation circuits?'

'In this case, yes, because you already see past it. But only if I have your permission.'

Rose deliberated for a long moment and finally nodded. 'Okay.'

The Doctor relayed the message back to the TARDIS that she ought to dim Rose's awareness of his perception filter for a moment. 'What do you see?'

Rose blinked, appearing startled. 'It's a bit… hard to describe. It's like, I'm looking right at you, but my eyes sort of want to look away from it.'

'Try to see it from the corner of your eye.'

Rose squinted.

'It's sort of like… from the picture. You've got one of these…' she gestured ineffectually at his neck. 'S'like a scarf or something?'

'Cravat, most likely.'

'A what?'

'Silly bit of foppery,' the Doctor dismissed. 'I used to wear them all the time.'

'Really?' Rose giggled. 'It's so not you.'

'And that's why I don't wear them anymore.'

'So how comes I can see you in that, when I don't even know what a cravat is?'

'Because that's what you saw when you first looked at the photo and your memory's compensated for that,' he explained. 'But if you were to look at that photo again now that you know me, you would see me as I am now.'

'Oh.'

The TARDIS retreated from Rose's mind, and she blinked back to full awareness.

'Back to normal?' he asked.

'Yeah.'

'Good.'

'So why don't you?'

'Hm?'

'Dress up. You make me do it all the time.'

'I don't _make_ you do anything. You enjoy it, don't you?'

'Well, yeah… and you don't?'

'Not anymore,' he hedged. 'I used to… all the time. It was a laugh, blending in to the culture and experiencing different times and worlds as the locals did. But the closer it got to the… well.'

'Oh.'

'There was no time for it anymore. Now… Well, if I don't have to, it's a lot of bother to go through when I'll just end up running for my life.'

'Hah! Least you're admitting it now,' Rose teased lightly, and then looked doubtful. 'Should I not get changed then?'

'You do as you please. It's just, it always seems like females – or female equivalents of most species – enjoy dressing up.'

She reflected on that and then asked. 'Doctor, do perception filters also fool cameras?'

'Depends on how strong they are. Mine, for example, is excellent. The only reason you see it is the same reason you see the TARDIS. You know us both too well. But anyone else won't even comment on it – and primitive cameras like these aren't likely to pick up on it either.'

'Oh.'

'Do you… do you want me to make you a perception filter like that? So that you don't have to get dressed up?'

'Um… maybe some other time? You're right, I'm still having too much fun. The clothes are so _vintage_. I want to find something like what Kate Winslet wore in the film,' Rose decided.

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

'You humans and your celebrity fascinations…'

· ΘΣ ·

Once Rose returned to the control room, dressed in the eggplant coloured skirt and jacket, the Doctor informed her that they had landed near the Southampton port.

'So you went out without me again?' she cried, feeling childishly upset at the notion. At the same time, she suspected the Doctor would be double-checking most of their landings for the next little while. At least until the sting of his twelve-month delay in bringing her home wore off.

'Poked my head out,' he shrugged. 'Had to make sure. Just as well, really, as we need to find the Daniels family and this is the best place to do it.'

'How's that, then?' She did not understand how one found anything in this time without a handy internet search.

'Passenger manifest and billing information for anyone with a ticket,' the Doctor replied keenly. 'The office will have all that information on-hand.'

'Oh – suppose that makes sense.'

To her surprise, he didn't take her hand as they exited the TARDIS, and the entire walk to the office, he kept a respectable distance from her. She frowned, but didn't comment on it – sometimes he got like that – and tried her best to keep up. It was a challenge, even though she'd taken the precaution of ignoring the buckled shoes the TARDIS provided in favour of a pair of black trainers.

Upon reaching their destination, the Doctor explained that it would be best if he go in alone. He could easily pretend he was an officer with the company whereas a woman would have no place there. Rose didn't argue, only because she needed to take the time to rest her feet.

'Did you get it?' Rose asked the Doctor forty-five minutes later as he strolled back out of the offices.

'Was there ever a doubt?' he shot back boastfully as he shoved the psychic paper back into his pocket. 'Not my first rodeo. No one bothered you, did they?'

'Nah – though one bloke dressed all in white wouldn't stop staring. It's really that rare for a woman to be around here?'

'Yep. Unless you're a practitioner of the world's oldest profession.'

'What's that?'

'Prostitution.'

Rose gaped at him a moment, and before she'd even thought it through, she reached out and thwacked him hard in the shoulder.

'Ow!' he yelped.

'You tosser! Why didn't you tell me that's what I looked like just standing there!' she cried.

'You didn't ask –'

'It's not something I would've thought to ask!'

'And how's that my fault?'

'You're always going on about how stupid humans are, you'd think you'd have some kind of list of rules or warnings. Like, "even if you're kitted out like bleeding Mary Poppins, people might think you're a prozzy".'

'I have warnings – and rules. Rule number one: Don't wander off. Only rule you need.'

'Does it apply to you too?' she grumbled as they moved farther away from the office. 'Where're we off to now?'

'Bridger Street. The office was most helpful. And less abusive. If I'd ever had any doubt you were related to Jackie Tyler, it's been sorted.'

They hailed a cab, and perhaps in recompense for his earlier behaviour, he helped her inside with the same gallantry of any man from this century. He surprised her by actually having the right amount of money to pay the fare. She didn't comment on it this time besides a meaningful quirk of her eyebrow, to which he glowered in response.

The ride was jolting, thanks to the state of the roads, and smelled of horse manure the entire time.

The Doctor had the driver stop a few streets away from the address he'd been given, so that they could pretend they had arrived there by chance. His plan was to knock on the door and pretend to ask for directions.

'That's it? Nothing more complicated than that?' Rose asked.

'What's wrong with that?'

'A bit boring, for a cover story.'

'We probably won't even need it. It's just in case. I've found that when you just show up somewhere, it's easy to have people tell you who they believe you are.'

'If you say so,' Rose allowed as he knocked on the door.

For a few moments, nothing happened, before the door creaked open and a small, round-faced young woman in an outfit like the one Gwyneth had worn peeped out. 'May I help you?'

'Good morning,' Rose replied. 'My name's Rose Tyler, and this is the Doctor –'

'Another doctor?' the woman interrupted, eyes wide in something confusion and possibly hope. 'I thought there wasn't anyone else to call for!'

The Doctor didn't even pause.

'Yes, well, I'm a specialist from up in Manchester, in town for a conference,' he blustered, shooting Rose a significant look. 'I got a telegram today regarding the case from a doctor… doctor… can't remember the name – Miss Tyler, did you write it down? Honestly, most unorganised nurse I've ever had –'

'Doctor Sinclair?' the woman supplied.

'That's the one! Anyhow, he thought the case would interest me and here I am. You're rather lucky you caught me, as I was about to board the train back home.'

'Oh, thank goodness – do come in, sir. We were beginning to think there was no one left we could turn to.'

She moved out of the way to let them through, and after exchanging somewhat curious glances, the Doctor and Rose did exactly that.

The house was sparsely furnished, but evidently not due to financial hardship. Instead, the presence of several travel trunks and parcels showed that the occupants of the house were in the middle of packing or moving.

The Doctor cleared his throat.

'Now, Sinclair only told me enough to whet my appetite for the case, but he was rather vague on the details. Before I meet the patient, could you give me a bit of background?'

'Sir, I'm only the housekeep –'

'Yes, and servants talk and generally know what goes on in a household better – and more honestly – than anyone who lives there. You might have noticed something the masters of the house didn't.'

'Not as such, sir. It came on so quickly,' the housekeeper told them as she brought them the creaking stairs. 'Our Gracie was fine, and then yesterday morn she wouldn't wake. It's almost like a spell from a fairy-tale – and her poor mother. All on her own right now and with them to sail to America come Friday…' She sighed. ' If there's sickness – well, I heard they only screen third class passengers, but I don't know what they'll do if they can't board the ship. Especially since Mr Daniels is up in London closing the accounts. If all this continues, they'll have to cancel the trip…'

'I'm sure they'll survive,' the Doctor answered, trading a knowing look with Rose. 'Obviously the priority here is the girl, isn't it?'

'Oh, of course!' the housekeeper said. 'We've moved Gracie out of the nursery and into the spare room. The other children were obviously upset, but it seemed the best idea.'

'Good idea,' Rose piped up. 'Hopefully that will keep the others from getting sick.'

'It is our fervent hope,' the housekeeper sighed sadly.

The Doctor leaned down to whisper to Rose. 'It's not exactly the best bit of news, that. During this time period, moving a relative into the spare room during illness means they think she's going to die.' Straightening up, he went on, 'And the other children? They haven't shown any odd symptoms?'

'None that have been noticed –'

There was the sound of a bell ringing somewhere.

'Forgive me, I have to go see about that,' the housekeeper apologised. 'It's just down the hall to the left.'

Rose waited until the housekeeper was out of earshot, before whispering, 'Doctor, if… if they're already going to cancel the trip, why do we need to be here?'

'Think about it – once in a lifetime trip, to a new world and a new life. Whatever the girl has would need to be pretty damn serious for the entire family to cancel their trip. Most people desperate enough for a new start – and they must be if Mr Daniels is closing all his accounts – would just drag an unconscious family member on board. Not cancel their plans.'

'I guess… unless it was serious, yeah? Like chicken pox?'

'Mm. Except it's not. Considering they've apparently exhausted every doctor available, yet there's no sign of tuberculosis quarantine or other current epidemics, it must be something different.'

They entered the room that had been indicated to them, and Rose's heart went out to the pale figure beneath the thick feather bed. The girl couldn't have been more than ten.

The Doctor lost no time in kneeling down to examine her, sonic screwdriver outstretched.

'I was right,' he said after a moment. 'Nothing simple in this.'

'D'you know what it is?'

'Haven't the faintest. But whatever it is, it's shutting down her systems one by one.'

'Excuse me, who do you think you are?' someone demanded from the doorway, and before they could stand a woman in taffeta sailed into the room, eyes sparking with fury. 'Get away from my child this instant!'

'Mrs Daniels?' Rose guessed.

'I'm the Doctor,' her companion introduced. 'Come to investigate the case of young Grace Daniels? I suppose the housekeeper didn't inform you yet.'

'No,' Mrs Daniels breathed, a little of the fire going out of her. 'But if that's true, you're in the wrong room. Gracie is…' She trailed off as the Doctor and Rose moved aside and she really looked at the nightgown clad figure on the bed.

The colour in her cheeks disappeared.

'That's not Gracie. That's Carolyn.'

The Doctor and Rose exchanged grim glances as the ramifications of that set in.

'Good thing we got here when we did, then,' the Doctor decided.

After that, everything happened very quickly.

With the two eldest Daniels children ailing, there was no question of the Doctor and Rose leaving – even if Mrs Daniels hadn't insisted they stay.

'Every other doctor we've had since yesterday gave up within a few hours,' she explained. 'They said she must have hit her head, but there's no sign of it anywhere. And the other children say that's not what happened – oh, Doctor, if there's anything you can do…?'

Her voice was pleading, several notches beyond despair.

'I'll do what I can, until the last,' the Doctor answered. 'I can promise you that, if nothing else.'

'Oh, bless you!'

The first thing the Doctor did was order Grace moved back into the nursery so that he could keep an eye on both her and Carolyn. The youngest children, Lawrence and baby Mary, were brought to stay in the spare room. He also rattled off an impressive list of advice with the convincing bluster of an actual doctor, demanding how the children were being fed and cared for up until then. He continued to snap about needing to keep their bodies strong enough to fight whatever was wrong with them. Rose's head spun as he went on about vitamins and minerals and tannins, but something must have gotten through because everything he demanded was procured by the desperate family.

Their willingness to aid the Doctor in any way was encouraging at first, but it soon became evident to Rose that they were hindering more than helping.

Mrs Oswald, the housekeeper, alternated between sitting with the two sick children and looking out for the healthy ones. Meanwhile, Mrs Daniels fretted over the expense in having to cancel their trip on the _Titanic. _It got to the point where the Doctor turned them out of the nursery, claiming they were agitating the children with their "emotional vapours".

'What are vapours?' Rose wanted to know as the two women grudgingly did as he instructed.

'Nothing more than a handy remnant of the Victorian age,' he grunted. 'About as credible a medical diagnosis as the dreaded lurgi. Could probably blame a murder on vapours with the frequency you lot used to use that excuse.'

'So coming up with an actual, real diagnosis was too much trouble for you?'

'No, cos then they'd inevitably ask questions – not the right questions, but boring questions. At least giving them something they've heard of, less questions being asked and the annoying people leave the room all the quicker. Which is what I wanted, so that I could do _this_.' He whipped out the sonic which had disappeared when Mrs Daniels first entered the room. 'Couldn't detect any foreign microbes in the air before, but this is a little more precise.'

Rose grinned. 'So there _is_ something you're not perfect at?'

The familiar whirring sound filled the air and the blue light echoed off the faces of the unconscious children. 'Nope. Nothing foreign in the air, not even trace elements.' He grimaced. 'Hear that?'

They were silent a moment, nothing but the slightly laboured breathing of the kids. Rose cocked her head one side, not understanding what he was getting at, before her confusion cleared. 'Their breathing sounds a bit funny.'

'Sounds like the beginnings of pneumonia,' the Doctor confirmed. 'Whatever's sapping their immune system is priming them for infection. Pneumonia's hard enough to beat in your time, but these days?'

'Can you cure them?'

'The pneumonia's a symptom. I can treat it, yeah, but the overall cause won't be affected,' the Doctor answered grimly. 'All I'll be able to do is offer temporary treatments.'

'Guess we need to figure out what's going on then,' Rose resolved.

'Here,' he told her absently, passing something over to her.

She blinked as she realised it was the psychic paper. 'Why're you giving me this?'

'Got a job for you. Reconnaissance, as it were.'

'Meaning?'

'I need to find out more about what's going on here, to narrow down the disease. I told you earlier there's no sign of quarantine?' At her nod, he continued, 'So if it's not contagious or an epidemic, it might narrow our options down a bit. But if there's anyone else in the city suffering from this, it means it's something else again.'

'So you want me to…?'

'Go out there, knock on doors and question people in the street. Find out if anyone else is sick, and if so for how long, where they live – anything like that might help. Use the psychic paper if you get into trouble.'

'Got it.' She headed for the door.

'And Rose?'

'Yeah?' She glanced back, only to find that he was once more intent over the two unconscious children.

'Early twentieth century Southampton might not be the safest city around, but you're jeopardy friendly enough to devastate their crime statistic for generations. Take that housekeeper with you and stay out of the dodgy areas.'

He wasn't looking at her. His tone of voice was the usual mixture of absent and somewhat insulting, but Rose had started recognising the subtext of the Doctor's speech.

'Yeah, well, mysterious disease? You be careful, too,' she told him. His head whipped up, and he looked like he was about to start on one of his lecture about superior biology. 'And try not to get thrown out of here for fraud, yeah?'

'Of the two of us, who's gone to medical school?' he challenged.

'Didn't graduate though, did you?' she shot back with a wink.

She left the room before he could offer a rejoinder.

* * *

**AN: **As treat for the fashion enthusiasts, I'll be posting Rose's outfits on my Pinterest. You can find all of them (as I add them) under my Rose Tyler Clothing Ideas board. For this chapter, you can find them here: (This site doesn't let me put URLs so type in the address to Pinterest followed by the numbers below, you can see everything yourself or just go searching yourself

1912: pin/393713192400418396/


	6. Chapter Six

'_I got you away from that other time, didn't I?'_

* * *

It took some effort on Rose's part to convince Mrs Daniels to spare her housekeeper for a few hours.

'It's a new treatment of the Doctor's,' she explained, straining her brain to come up with something that sounded the least bit convincing. 'He calls it the, er, House Method. If we can find out if anyone else has the same illness as the children, he might be able to figure out what it is and how to treat it.'

'I understand that,' Mrs Daniels sniffed. 'But why do you need my housekeeper to carry it out? Isn't that what _you're_ trained to do, as his nurse?'

'Well, yeah, but usually he's the one doing the footwork, cos he knows what he's looking for,' Rose explained. 'But he needs to stay with the k – children. So that they don't get worse. And you need to be here, of course – but you can probably spare your housekeeper. I mean, it's not like she's doing much around here anyhow, with all your stuff packed and all.'

'Really, ma'am, it's no trouble,' the housekeeper piped up. 'If it'll help the young ones, of course – and it would be uncharitable to send the poor girl out on her own, in this town. Oh, to have that on my conscience…'

'Very well,' Mrs Daniels allowed. 'Do what you can. But I shall expect you to make up your duties upon returning to the house, Mrs Oswald.'

'Yes, ma'am,' the young woman curtseyed.

Mrs Daniels swanned off and Rose made a face.

'Bit of a driver, isn't she?' Rose remarked quietly. 'Her kids are sick and she can still worry about the laundry being done?'

'I don't mind, if it gives her something to focus on,' the housekeeper answered with a sad smile. 'She's been out of sorts since Mr Daniels decided they should move, and now this…'

'I guess,' Rose allowed cautiously.

As they were leaving the house, a carriage pulled up to the door, and a harried looking man in a suit stepped out.

'Mr Daniels!' Mrs Oswald gasped. 'We weren't expecting you until Sunday evening!'

'I came as soon as the telegram reached me,' the man said, his moustache bristling. 'Is Grace faring any better?' His gaze fell upon Rose. 'And who is this? Where are you going at such a time?'

'Sir, this is Nurse Tyler – she came with the doctor. He's sent us to run an errand while he works on the children –'

'_Children_?' Daniels repeated, horror dawning on his face. 'You mean?'

'Carolyn's ill too, sir – we discovered just this morning –'

But Daniels wasn't listening, already taking off through the door and up the stairs.

'Poor man,' Rose said.

'Should we go back in with him?'

'Wouldn't do much for him – we're more likely to be helpful if we do like the Doctor says.'

'I suppose,' Mrs Oswald sighed. 'Oh, it makes my heart hurt to think of what'll happen if the girls don't get better. Well, then, come on along Miss Tyler –'

'Oh, call me Rose. We're gonna be stomping around Southampton together, it's less of a mouthful.'

'Then you'll call me Clara,' the housekeeper said decisively. 'Everyone else does, too, even her would-be-ladyship – she only drags out the "missus" part when there's company about.'

_Part of that whole class and breeding thing, I guess_, Rose thought. Out loud, she asked, 'So where to, first? I don't know my way around here.'

'Let's try closer to the town centre to start with,' Clara suggested. 'We're more likely to hear about anyone else falling ill when there are more people around to gossip.'

'Good point,' Rose said. She was starting to really like the forthright little housekeeper. Her good-heartedness reminded her of Gwyneth, only she was less superstitious and more practical.

Which turned out to be a plus.

The Doctor's plan was easier said than done, Rose reflected several hours later as she and Clara trudged through the dirty, rather questionable looking streets near the ship yards. They'd had little to no luck the entire day. Any possible leads they chased either ended up being only rumours blown out of proportion by gossip or an actual unrelated disease outbreak.

The usual stuff, according to Clara.

Even with the psychic paper, more often than not the doors slammed in their faces, or they were told off for sticking their nose into other peoples' affairs. The more well-to-do the home, the more she and Clara were treated like gutter trash.

_Which, really, isn't going to change much in the next hundred years,_ she thought grimly as they moved on to the next street.

On one occasion, two ruffians looking for a good time with the "impressionable looking" young women tried to lure them into an alley, insisting they knew of some afflicted children. Things might have gone south if Rose hadn't been wearing her trainers under her long skirt. She's hiked up the material enough to allow mobility and promptly shown the two drunks exactly why messing with a girl from Powell Estate wasn't wise. Meanwhile, an uncertain Clara lashed out with her small fists until they hurried away.

'What on earth were you thinking, going after them like that?' Clara gasped as they made it back out to a more civilised part of the street. 'They could've killed you! And why were you yelling "f_ire_" at the top of your lungs?'

'S'just something my boyfriend Mickey told me once – he said it was more likely someone would come help me if I were attacked if I yelled about fire,' Rose explained. 'Didn't exactly work in this case cos there was no one around to hear, but I think it might have messed with their heads a bit.'

She shot Clara a tight smile and was rewarded with a bemused shake of the housekeeper's head.

'You're an odd girl, Rose Tyler. I think I like you.' She grinned. 'Though if we could refrain from following any more drunkards into alleyways, I would like that just as well.'

'Oi! I didn't know they were smashed until I got close enough to smell 'em, and then we handled ourselves just fine.'

'Well, they won't be engaging in any amorous pursuits any time soon, that's for sure,' Clara agreed.

They both laughed.

'Sounds like an easy-going man, your fellow,' Clara remarked after a while, as they walked down a stretch of street that was devoid of family homes. 'I mean, if he gives you advice about how to get out of trouble – as if he expects you to! And letting you travel with the doctor instead of staying home?'

Rose made a face. 'Mickey doesn't _let_ me do anything. I'm my own person. So are you, and if your husband ever tells you different –'

'Oh, I'm not married,' Clara interrupted.

'What?' Rose blinked. 'But you're called…?'

'Mrs Oswald, yes, I know. But when you're twenty-seven and haven't settle down properly, people get this look on their faces when you try to pass yourself off as a "miss".'

'I know that look,' Rose nodded. 'It's the same one people get on their face when I tell 'em I never finished high school.'

'Is it so rare in London not to finish school?' Clara asked. 'I was only thirteen when I entered service, myself.'

'Um, parts of London, yeah,' Rose answered, cursing herself for forgetting what time period she was in again. Hadn't her own Gran told her stories about quitting school at sixteen to marry Granddad Prentice?

She changed the subject.

'If – _when_ the Doctor figures out what's wrong with the children and the Daniels go to America, where will you go?'

'I have a cousin in Cardiff,' Clara explained. 'Gerald moved down five years ago. He's been going on about needing someone to serve a decent cuppa.'

'Oh. Well, that sounds nice,' Rose said, hoping she sounded encouraging. She had to remember that the service industry was the best a woman could do in this time period.

Which was too bad because Clara was obviously full of potential

It wasn't until the noon hour had completely retreated from the sky and the lamplighters began to ply their trade that the two of them made any breakthrough. They found their way to the home of an older Irish steelworker at the end of a dreary lane. Even then it was only grief and alcohol that loosened his tongue for Rose's questions

'If you'd seen it, Doctor,' she told the Doctor later that night, after she and Clara returned to the Daniels house, holding herself tightly with her arms. Clara immediately went to serve Mr and Mrs Daniels a cold plate, the two of them having been worrying over the children all day. 'Those poor parents. Seven children and all of them down sick like the Daniels kids as of yesterday, and them not having enough money for someone to see them. The second one died today. S'why Mr O'Neill even bother talking to me.'

The Doctor looked chagrined for a moment before asking. 'Did the parents get sick at all?'

'No, was just the kids.'

'And they all got sick at the same time?'

'One day after another, yeah.'

'And the first two are dead,' he mused. Rose clenched her jaw at the cavalier tone he used, reminding herself that sometimes the Doctor didn't quite think about people's feelings when he spoke. 'If the pattern's universal, the disease will run its course in five days. After that…'

He trailed off, looking down at the sick children, and Rose felt her throat constrict.

'You mean they'll die.'

'Even children die,' the Doctor murmured gravely. When she shot him a scandalised glance, she saw a determined glint in his eyes. 'Doesn't mean I won't do everything in my power to stop it happening on my watch.'

· ΘΣ ·

The Doctor spent a sleepless night spent trying to cure the children. It made no sense that two families from different socioeconomic, religious and geographical status had been struck with the same disease. His musing was interrupted by Mrs Daniels hurrying into the nursery in tears.

'Lawrence won't wake,' she cried. 'Oh, Doctor, he's taken ill too!'

The Doctor leaped to his feet and Rose, who had fallen asleep between the two ailing girls, was quick to follow.

'No, no, no!' the Doctor hissed under his breath as he entered the spare room to examine the young boy.

It was times like these the Doctor wished he had more hair, just so that he could tear it out in frustration.

In the hours following young Lawrence succumbing to the mystery illness, the Doctor literally recited every disease he'd ever heard of – twice. None of the symptoms matched what was presented before him, and those that did ascribed to diseases that humans were biologically incapable of contracting.

More infuriating than that, however, was the hopelessness of the Danielses. Mrs Daniels locked herself in her room to pray for some obscure miracle while the housekeeper took it upon herself to prepare the children's best clothing for them.

'In case of the inevitable,' she whispered apologetically.

Mr Daniels came to the Doctor several hours after Lawrence took ill, his face drawn.

'Your work is much appreciated, Doctor. You have worked tirelessly and slept less than any of us… but it is perhaps Providence.'

'Oh, you don't mean that!' Rose piped up in protest, stirring from where she was watching over Lawrence. The three afflicted children were now in the nursery. 'There's always hope, Mr Daniels – the Doctor will figure this out, you just wait!'

The Doctor offered her a wan smile, warmed by her belief in him even though he had a suspicion she was wrong in this case. Still, he turned to the children's father and added, 'No point in planning for the worst when there's hope.'

'Perhaps,' Daniels sighed. 'But should it happen, my wife and I do have arrangements to make. Besides, if a cure is so impossible to find, perhaps it would be best if your efforts were spent on patients who have a chance of recovery.'

Rose looked ready to protest, but the Doctor cut her off with a grave, 'If you believe that to be the best course. At least give me until the sundown to do what I can.'

'Very well, Doctor. But if by then you haven't made any more headway, I must insist you leave. We will want to spend what time that we can with our children. While it is still possible.'

It was a sentiment the Doctor could fully understand. He did not tell the man that even having the time to prepare for the death of a child didn't take away the ache of the loss. Instead he nodded tightly and returned his attention to the sick children.

'He doesn't seem very upset, did he?' Rose huffed angrily.

'Oh, he's upset, Rose,' the Doctor told her wearily, not wanting to explain the particularly painful emotions radiating from everyone in the house. 'He's just hiding it, likely for his wife's sake. And remember, there's a different attitude to showing emotions in this age. The Victorian Era might've ended almost a decade ago, but those who grew up in it are still bound by a certain standard of rules. Even grief has a certain protocol – and trust me, compared to some societies, he's downright giddy.'

'I guess,' Rose said doubtfully. 'Though, if it were me, my mum would be breathing down the neck of every doctor in a fifty mile radius.'

'I can imagine,' he agreed dryly.

'So you really think there might be no cure?'

'Don't sound so surprised. Even in your time, there's no cure for some illnesses. People still die of the common cold.'

'Yeah, I remember one of my teachers saying that in biology,' Rose said. 'Something about how you can cure a disease but not a virus – though I don't really remember why, it was all a bit boring –'

He felt an almost physical sensation as an idea clicked into face. 'That's it!'

Rose blinked. 'What's it?'

'What if it's not a disease?' he mused excitedly.

'What if it's a virus?' she suggested slowly, trying to pick apart her last sentence.

'No – no, it's not a virus or something would have showed up,' he dismissed. 'But what if we've been looking at it wrong? Expecting it to be a disease when it's something completely different?'

'You've lost me.'

'Whatever's happening to the children – what if it's not a disease, but presenting as one? Not an infection or a cause – but the result!'

'You mean, like, if something else is doing this to the kids? Like a poison?'

He was pacing back and forth now, his brain whirring with the sudden hunch.

'Not a poison, also would've shown up on a scan. Look back on the evidence: Grace takes sick in the nursery and when she stays sick, they move her to the spare room. Then a day later, Carolyn takes sick – in the nursery –'

'But you scanned the nursery and didn't find anything.'

'Exactly. So we moved the sick children back in and the healthy ones to the spare room. And then –'

'Lawrence got sick in the spare room,' Rose said slowly, obviously still not understanding.

'Yes! But neither room has any sign of foreign microbes in the air or infected blankets or anything that would suggest an airborne virus. Oxygen levels are normal, or as normal as you can get in a gas lit house,' the Doctor mused. 'But if something else is doing this, some outside force – say it's following the children, working its way from oldest to youngest. That means Mary is next, tonight if the pattern holds – few species out there could do this, have this particular effect, and not show up on a scan. Whatever is happening to these children is happening on a different level. Not biological – metaphysical perhaps?'

He took in the room once more, looking for anything he might have missed, and his eyes rested on the windows briefly. Then he was bounding out of the nursery and down the hall, poking his head in and out of rooms until he finally found who he was searching for.

'You! Mrs Oswald!'

'Doctor?' the woman asked hesitantly.

'In the nursery – was anyone in there before the children took ill? Even just to tidy? Dusting, opening the windows and the like?'

'We changed the bedclothes the day before, of course,' the housekeeper allowed as Rose joined them in the hallway. Both women looked rather confused.

'But you never opened the windows?'

'Of course not, Doctor.'

'And the spare room? Before and after the other children stayed there?'

'The same. Mr Daniels insists all the windows remain closed except for in the summer. It's an expensive house to heat, I'm sure you understand.'

'Of course.'

'Is there anything else?' she wondered politely, though her expression suggested she was a little doubtful of his sanity.

'No, you can go away.' He'd already dismissed her to the back of his mind.

'That was a bit rude,' Rose remarked soon as they were alone again. 'What're you thinking?'

'The window.'

'What about it?'

'It's partially open,' the Doctor explained as he returned to the nursery and headed straight for the window. He bent down to stare at the sliver of space between the window and the sill. 'Didn't notice that before.'

'So?'

'Remember those vapours I was talking about? The late 19th century and early 20th century, people still thought night air of any sort was dangerous. Physicians of this time adamantly insist that the weak or infirm, like old people and children, shouldn't be exposed to it,' he explained. 'So why would it have been left open in a nursery? Even if the servants do air things out during the day, the latch would be hard for a child to break. Yet if you look at the top here, it's broken and –'

The Doctor stopped talking. Rose craned around his shoulder, trying to see.

'Doctor?'

'Rose, look.' He threw up the sash and opened the window, pointing at something just outside on the ledge.

She glanced down at what he was pointing at.

The wood on the outside of the window was polished and sleek, except for the black, gnarled handprint that seemed to have been rotted into the wood there.

'Oh my God. What is that?'

He didn't answer, hurrying to the spare room and performing the same investigation. As he expected, just outside of view, another sinister looking handprint had practically burned into the wood there. This one looked more recent than the other.

'Doctor?' Rose had followed him again.

'I know what it is,' he murmured, staring at the mark.

'What?' Rose breathed.

'It's alien.'

'Yes, caught on to that myself – what _kind_ of alien?'

'It's a vitavore.'

'And that's what when it's at home?'

'They're an alien race of biological metamorphs that feed off of the life force of other life forms to survive,' the Doctor explain. 'On its own planet, the main food source is a kind of plantlike, non-sentient species – kind of a cross between a cabbage and a hoover.'

'Yeah, well, I haven't seen anything like that around here.'

'There isn't anything, so it needs an alternate food source to survive,' he looked down at the pale, sleeping child. 'Obviously it's found something.'

'Why'd it come here to begin with, if there's no cabbage-hoover plants?'

'It didn't come by choice. Vitavores aren't technologically advanced enough for space travel, which means it was brought here accidentally. Either a careless traveller, or it came through a rift.'

'Like the one in Cardiff?'

'Exactly like the one in Cardiff, if not the same one – but in this case, I think it's the first option. Someone accidentally brought it here.'

'How do you _accidentally_ bring a life-sucking alien to Earth?'

'Oh, the same way insects or parasites sometimes end up crossing borders in your time – negligent tourists and lax import security.'

'You make it sound like the Men in Black.'

'Bah – terrible film. Though they got one thing, right – in the twentieth century, the average amount of aliens on the planet at any given time is about fifteen hundred. Ninety-nine percent of them are peaceable, but the leftover percent…'

'A bit more like the Slitheen?'

'Exactly.'

'So one of those aliens could have showed up here and accidentally brought a vitavore with them?'

'Yep. Happens a lot, actually. Then the poor fool gets seen by some primitive apes and _bam_! Humans slap a moniker on them and you've got legends about vampires and yeti and leprechauns.'

'Wait, leprechauns aren't real?'

'Not on Earth.

'Right – gonna ask you about that later – so these vitavores must be pretty close to Earth if they can accidentally get brought here. They from Mars or something?'

'No, which is even more troubling. The vitavores comes from a planet hundreds of thousands of light-years away. They only way to get one here without it eventually dying of starvation would be time travel.'

'How'd they manage that, then?'

'You and I aren't the only time travellers in this universe, Rose. With the exception of the occasional maniac with a homemade device, there's an entire industry dedicated to time-travel tourism.'

'But – but how do they not muck things up? Especially if there aren't any…' she trailed off, looking apologetic.

'Time Lords?' he supplied. 'That lot wouldn't have lowered themselves to looking into those matters anyhow, not unless the Web of Time was in jeopardy. There are certain organisations – and I use that term in the loosest sense of the word – that crop up to make sure there's no meddling in important events.'

'And that works?'

'Sometimes.'

'And when it doesn't?'

'Well, usually that's when the TARDIS decides to show up in a completely different place and time then I intend.'

'Like right now, when there's a vitavore on the loose.'

'Looks like,' he agreed. He offered her a grin. 'Actually, that's the good news.'

'What?'

'Now that I'm here, I can make a cure. In fact, the kids' condition can be completely reversed in seconds.'

'That's brilliant!'

'Bad news, though, it's not easy. We have to catch the vitavore and stop it. Either remove it far enough away from its food source that its proximal influence stops harming its victims, or neutralise it. Either option's a pain in the arse, cos vitavores are completely invulnerable unless they're feeding.'

'But you've got a plan, right?'

'Yes,' the Doctor said grimly. 'We need to set a trap for it. But we're gonna have to talk to the parents first, and I guarantee they won't like what I've got to say.'


	7. Chapter Seven

''_I got you away from that other time, didn't I?'_

* * *

The Doctor wasted no time in rousing the household and gathering those who had the ability to wake in the nursery.

'There is something making your children sick, but it's not a virus,' he told them without preamble.

'Then what is it?' Daniels demanded. 'Some kind of poison? Have they been eating something they shouldn't be? Or is it perhaps an allergy?'

'More like a parasite. An organism that works its way through families – probably preying on some genetic characteristic. Blood type,' the Doctor lied. He generally preferred the truth, but at the moment that might end up with him thrown out of the house. The children didn't have very long as it was. He couldn't risk them.

'Blood type?' Mrs Daniels repeated, confused. 'I have never heard of such a thing.'

'Well, it's a rather recent notion, couldn't expect you to understand,' the Doctor dismissed. 'An inherited composition of the blood, obviously shared by all of your children. We need to stop it, but not by conventional means.'

'What do you mean?' Daniels asked.

'This parasite is a physical being, Mr Daniels, and a right nasty bugger. It's been staking this place out, picking off your kids one by one. Doesn't seem to care where you put them, it finds them. And its next victim will be Mary, judging by its pattern.'

'Pattern?'

'Oldest to youngest. After that, it'll move on.'

'And we cannot simply… wait this out?'

'Really don't think you'll want to.'

'Then what are we to do?' Mrs Daniels cried, wringing her hands.

'The parasite is getting in through the window – so we'll simply have to separate Mary from the other children and observe her room. We can ambush the creature there.'

'Creature?' Daniels interjected. 'You said it was a parasite, Doctor, and now you speak as though it's some sort of bogeyman.'

'No rule saying it can't be both,' the Doctor shrugged. 'We're not talking about a small creature like a rat, Mr Daniels, but something much larger.'

'And you'd propose leaving my infant daughter as bait for it!' Daniels demanded. 'What sort of heartless solution is that?'

'The one that's most likely to work!'

'And if it doesn't?' Mrs Daniels whispered, looking like she was about to faint.

'Exactly – if it doesn't, then we will be burying our child!'

'You'll be burying all four if you don't shut up and listen –'

'It's fine,' Rose interrupted the Doctor before he could begin to shout at the Danielses. She glowered at the Doctor, as if he was responsible for these people's impractical views, before returning her attention to the horrified couple and their housekeeper. 'We wouldn't ask you to do that. We'll just have to figure out some other way to lure it in. I mean…' She paused in thought and then looked at him. 'Doctor, maybe I could do it? I could take Mary's place. I bet I've got just as much life in me as any of the kids.'

She smiled ruefully.

'Wouldn't work,' the Doctor shook his head. 'You've already reached biological maturity. The vitavore will instinctively seek out someone who hasn't yet.'

'What d'you mean?'

'You get regular monthly visits. I'll warrant Mary doesn't yet, being an infant.'

'Doctor, really!' Mr Daniels was as red-faced as Rose, although in his case there was more anger than embarrassment at the root.

'We'll do it,' Mrs Daniels interrupted decisively.

Her husband sputtered. 'Anne–!'

'For goodness sake, Henry, this thing is hurting our children – perhaps even killing them! If there is a chance we can make them well, I will do whatever it takes! Now, Doctor – what do you require of us?'

After that, it was only a matter of planning and logistics; the Doctor gave his orders, and everyone hurried to follow them (although Daniels remained grudging and suspicious).

The nursery, now the ward for three sick children, was quickly packed with all the adults in the house. The Doctor would have preferred the Danielses and Mrs Oswald to stay in their respective rooms. Unfortunately, the possibility of them peeking in on little Mary as she slept in the spare room was too risky.

Mrs Daniels sat cradling Lawrence, looking as though she might nod off if she weren't so worried, while Mr Daniels paced as much as the small room would allow. Mrs Oswald watched the proceedings with wide, curious eyes, occasionally whispering out a question to Rose as they monitored Grace and Carolyn.

'But are you sure it will come here? With us all awake and sitting here?'

'It did the last two nights,' Rose countered quietly. 'Everyone was up watching over the kids, so it must not be bothered. Probably figures we're trying our best to care for the sick ones. No better distraction, I guess.'

'Then how is the doctor going to stop it?' the housekeeper prompted. 'If we're in here, I mean – how's he supposed to know what's going on over there?'

'Well I won't if you lot keep jabbering,' he muttered shortly, though there was no such problem. The wall he was close to was thin enough that he could hear anything from the next room, even without superior senses.

He caught a sudden shift in the breathing of the toddler in the other room and straightened up.

'Is something happening?' Daniels hissed, pausing in his well-worn path.

'Not if you don't shut up,' the Doctor snapped.

Daniels made a move for the door. 'We should –'

'_We_ aren't doing anything – _you_ are staying in here until I've sorted things.'

'But that creature –'

' – is completely invulnerable until the moment it begins to feed,' the Doctor interrupted. 'It'll kill you easy if you go in before that. Go in now, you'll scare it off and there goes your chance of saving your other kids. We've got one chance to get this one – one – so sod off and let me do my work, mate.'

Daniels gaped, obviously not expecting such language, but the Doctor turned his attention back to what was going on in the spare room.

Dimly, he could make out Rose whispering something meant to be comforting or apologetic.

'… knows what he's doing, Mr Daniels… been in worse situations than this…'

He tuned her out, trying to focus entirely on the soft inhalations of the child in the other room. The first shift in rhythm would be her starting from sleep when the creature entered, but it was only once the vitavore began to feed that he expected to hear –

There was a sharp, rattling inhalation.

'That's it!' the Doctor said, already bounding to the door. He had the sonic in one hand, and an iron poker in the other. He didn't intend to use it, but in case the creature didn't cooperate, the sonic would only be so useful. 'Everyone else, stay put and keep quiet while I deal with this!'

Despite his quick movements, he was preternatural silent as he slipped through the dark hallway next door.

He threw open the door and vaulted into the room.

The cloaked figure hovering over the bed of the two-year-old-jerked upright, its gaping mouth hissing at the Doctor in rage. It stumbled backward in surprised, no doubt headed for the window.

The Doctor quickly aimed the screwdriver at the curtain rod above the window, corroding the metal brackets holding it in place and causing it to fall obstructively across the window.

'None of that,' he ordered firmly, although he made a placating gesture. 'I'm not here to hurt you. In fact, I think I can help you. Just… move away from the little one.'

The vitavore remained where it was although its head cocked to one side.

'You're far from home, aren't you? Bet you're simply trying to survive – but they don't really stock your food here on Earth, so you're making do. Only that's making you sick, isn't it?' He nodded at the sallow, hanging skin of its face and sunken eyes. 'The more you take from the children's life force, the more you crave. And it barely sustains you as it is. You won't last long, not this way. But if you come with me – I can take you away from here. I have a ship. I can get you home. The farther you get away from the children, the sooner they get better – and the sooner you get better.'

The creature seemed to hesitate. It took a slow, cautious step backward, and the Doctor had a faint, hopeful idea that he'd pulled it off.

There was a wordless shout and suddenly Daniels was in the room.

The Doctor briefly registered Rose trying to hold the man back and failing before he was across the floor and swinging another iron poker.

'No!' the Doctor yelled.

Too late.

The vitavore shimmered and shrank, reverting its the indestructible and camouflaged form of disguise – a haggard looking woman – before Daniels' poker sank into her chest.

She let out a grunt of surprise and lashed out at him with one hand.

Stunned, either by his action or the fact that the creature seemed unaffected, Daniels was easily thrown off by the vitavore. He landed in a heap across the room.

The vitavore began to slowly draw the poker out of her body, her eyes remaining on the Doctor and Rose as she did so.

'Oh, fantastic,' the Doctor said with a swallow.

'I take it we're in trouble?' Rose supplied.

'She's strong, and she's dangerous, so yeah! She'll either guard her food source or make a run for it! Neither of which we can afford right now,' he answered, quickly calculating the odds in his head. Deciding on what the slightly less risky option was, he commanded, 'Rose, cover the window – you, Daniels, make yourself useful and stay by the door.'

The man was still recovering his breath, but he nodded and staggered to the door.

'Rose, no matter what happens next, you stay by that window.'

'Doctor, what are you gonna–?'

'Certain life forces are addictive. And like any addiction, sometimes a body reaches a point where its common sense doesn't quite stand up against the cravings,' the Doctor explained, slowly approaching the vitavore. He addressed her calmly. 'You can sense it, can't you? How I'm different from this lot. A lot more life in me, eh? And the energy's a lot less harmful to your biology, I'd warrant.'

'Doctor –'

'Bit of hush now, Rose. Can you sense it?' he questioned the vitavore again. 'The build-up of hundreds of years gone… of hundreds more to come? Maybe even thousands, who knows?'

The woman cocked her head to one side uncertainly, but her eyes remained hungrily fixed on him.

'Could make you stronger, giving me a go instead of that little ape on the bed. Might even let you go longer without having to feed,' he tempted. 'Long enough to get off this planet. Back home.'

With an animalistic snarl, the vitavore dove for him, shifting through the air into the cloaked hobgoblin that was its true form. The force of her threw him backwards, making his head knock against the wall.

'Doctor!'

'Rose, stay still!' he ordered, even as the creature grasped him tightly at the shoulders and opened its mouth.

There was a cold, sucking sensation and his vision swam. His brain whirred in alarm, informing him of various biological functions being compromised, then attacked.

'It's working!' he gasped, experiencing his various systems weakening. His lungs constricted, and he felt himself lapse into the use of his respiratory bypass, but the vitavore relaxed as its hunger was staved off. Slowly, he watched her eyes begin to clear from the crazed dimness of a junkie and back into something which might actually be capable of rational thought. 'There we go – feel a bit better?'

Threat level abating, he studied the creature, trying to assess what damage it had already suffered and if there was anything on his ship that might clear it up faster.

Then he noticed a peculiar spade-shaped stretch of flesh across its right eye. It was almost invisible in the darkness of the night, or he'd have noticed it sooner.

The mark of a pair bond.

'Oh, bollocks,' he managed, just before there was a shattering crash from across the room.

The window Rose had been standing beside suddenly burst in and she was thrown to the ground as a man landed there in a crouch. He was just as haggard looking at the female vitavore, but seemingly less addled.

It barrelled through the window, seizing on the disoriented woman and pulling her to the gaping hole where the window had been. It seemed to be preparing to guide its mate through the window, but Daniels was in the way again.

'No!' he yelled, the poker once again in his hand. 'You're not going until you put my children right again!'

A wild swing had the male hissing and pulling away, the iron allergy of its kind forcing it back. In a desperate move, the female suddenly threw herself in front of the male.

This time Daniels' poker struck true, pinning the vitavore female in the chest area while she was vulnerable.

She shrieked in agony, a sound echoed by the keening wail of the male. For a moment he looked furious, but as Daniels pulled the poker from the female's body, her mate stumbled several steps to the window and dove out of it.

'He's running – Doctor, he's –'

'Rose, stay put–!'

He had little time to finish his warning as the dying and distressed vitavore now charged at the Doctor. Her fear and desperation fueled her with adrenaline, and he was still weak from being fed off of the first time. This time, he wouldn't be able to fight it off.

It began to desperately consume his life force, no doubt trying to heal itself the mortal wound, but it was taking too much from him and too fast. He had so much life to give, of course, but losing it at such a speed… he wouldn't even have it in him to regenerate.

'Doctor!'

'Rose…' he croaked. 'Stay… away…'

Better him than her, and right now if the vitavore was interrupted it would turn on whatever living thing got in its way.

There was a sudden _clang!_ followed by an exhalation of surprise, and then suddenly the vitavore was screaming in pain. The Doctor watched in horror as the metal bed warmer – wielded by a stunned looking Mrs Oswald from the doorway – opened over the vitavore's head. Glowing hot coals flew everywhere.

The acrid smell of burning flesh and cloth filled the air, and before their eyes the creature suddenly crumpled to the floor.

'What the hell did you do?' he demanded of the housekeeper. He'd wanted the creature slowed down, not destroyed.

'It was killing you, it seemed like the thing to do!' Mrs Oswald snapped, although her eyes registered her disbelief at her actions.

'It was just acting on instinct – it was scared and being attacked on all fronts–!'

'Yeah, and then it was killing you.'

Rose stumbled over, frowning at the Doctor. 'Sorry, Doctor, I'm with her on this one.'

He wanted to reply with a sharp rejoinder about priorities, but Rose's eyes were snapping at him with fury and fear. Even his own sense of self-preservation was scolding him for his carelessness. He relaxed a bit and nodded once in agreement.

'Suppose you've saved my life then, Mrs Oswald –'

There was a sudden shriek from the nursery. The four of them hurried from the spare room – Daniels paused long enough to snatch the slowly waking Mary from the bed – and ran toward the nursery. They all crowded through the doorway, and it took several seconds before the Doctor realised what his eyes were registering.

Mrs Daniels was weeping, but not from heartache; clutched to her chest, she held onto Lawrence and Carolyn. The two youngsters were awake, although bleary-eyed from sleep, and blinking around the way one inevitably does after a long sleep. In her bed across the room from her siblings, young Grace was sitting up and staring at the odd assortment of people in confusion.

She then turned to her mother and asked in a clear, polite voice, 'Mother, who are those people?'

'That's the doctor, sweetheart,' Mrs Daniels said, pressing a kiss to the child on either side of her and going over to embrace her oldest daughter. 'And the nurse. You've been ill.'

Mr Daniels appeared utterly overwhelmed, staring down at his newly reunited family as if he was about to cry. He clutched his infant daughter tightly to him, ignoring her tired babble of protest.

The Doctor felt his hearts strain so painfully at the image he had to look away.

'Will it… will it be back?' Daniels asked him after a breath, sounding uncertain. 'That… creature?'

He still seemed to have trouble believing what he had seen.

'Nope,' the Doctor answered. 'Vitavore survival instinct is stronger than anything. Now that this food source has been well and truly compromised, it'll move on.'

'I thought you said they were mates, though,' Rose asked. 'Won't it come back for her?'

'Few species are as hung up about revenge over losing a mate as you lot,' the Doctor pointed out. 'In life, sure, vitavores will do almost anything to protect a mate, but once they've died, s'just another body. No concept of grief, vitavores.'

Daniels shot him an alarmed look and then shook his head. Obviously he decided he didn't want to know.

Sometimes, the Doctor envied the human ability to ignore life's unpleasantness.

· ΘΣ ·

With the children cured so and the body soon disposed of, the Doctor and Rose had no reason to stay with the Daniels family any longer. However, with the threat of disease gone, it seemed their plans to sail on the _Titanic_ were once more possible.

'That's exactly what we've been trying to stop,' Rose complained as they left the Daniels home that evening. They had assured the family they would be back to see them before they left if only to follow up on the children's condition.

'Don't worry about it,' the Doctor told her. 'Given what Clive told you and that photo you saw? They have to go to the shipyard anyhow before I convince them not to get on the boat. Obviously, we still have time.'

'I guess,' Rose murmured doubtfully.

'You'll see, everything'll turn out fine,' the Doctor told her gamely. 'We'll skip ahead two days and make sure of it.'

'Yeah, if you land on time…'

'Oi!'

The Doctor's luck seemed to hold, though.

After a quick trip to the TARDIS and a brief visit to her room to freshen up, he led her out onto the docks of Southampton harbour.

The morning of the _Titanic_'s departure was clear and brisk, and an air of anticipation permeated the area.

The Doctor and Rose spent an hour larking about while searching for the Danielses; he even agreed to take a few photos of Rose on her mobile when no one was around. She had changed into a light, off-white afternoon dress and fully intended to show off the pictures to her mother on the next visit home.

About an hour before the ship was due to sail, they finally found the Danielses.

They were already in the middle of posing for the awaited photograph outside the shipyard. As she had upon seeing the photo for the first time, Rose marvelled at how clean and solemn the children looked in their Sunday best.

Upon recognising them in the distance, a jubilant Mr Daniels insisted that the Doctor and Rose commemorate the occasion with them.

'You saved our family,' he insisted, waving the Doctor past the disgruntled looking photographer. The man had no doubt just finished posing everyone, 'That should be recorded for posterity, don't you think, Doctor?'

'Don't mind if I do,' the Doctor beamed. 'But you must excuse Rose – bit superstitious about cameras. Raised by a very religious grandmother, you know.'

Rose rolled her eyes, but didn't argue. She hadn't seen herself in the picture to begin with, therefore she wasn't meant to show up in it now. Instead, she eagerly took in the activity around the place, smiling at the people hurrying to and from the docks. She also tried very hard not to think about how the vast majority of the passengers would be dead in a week's time.

As she was weighing the pros and cons of asking the Doctor if the ship _really _had to sink, she caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd.

Her chest constricted in distress.

'Doctor!' she exclaimed. 'It's him!' Rose forced herself not to turn her head, lest she lost sight of the individual in question. 'The second vitavore! I just saw him!'

'Where?' the Doctor demanded, striding forward and trying to find where she was looking.

'He's just over – damn, he's gone now – but Doctor, he was dressed up like a crew-member. Like one of them stewards.'

Rose pointed to a group of white-clad men making their way up the gangplank to the ship, and the Doctor's face turned stormy. He opened his mouth, but was cut off when Mrs Daniels strode forward, eyes wide in fear.

'Did I hear right?' she demanded. 'That… _thing_ that accosted my children is on the ship?'

'Looks like,' the Doctor said grimly.

'That settles it,' the woman declared decisively and turned to her husband. 'Have a cab called. We are not getting on that boat.'

'But Anne – the expense–!'

'Dash the expense! I won't have my children on the same ship as that creature,' Mrs Daniels contended.

'I'm afraid I must insist, Mr Daniels,' the Doctor agreed gravely. 'After their recent experiences with the creature and already being susceptible to its influences…'

Mr Daniels gazed helplessly about for a moment and then sighed.

'You're right. I would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to them.'

The Doctor and Rose waited with the family until the cab. After waving off any offers to accompany them to their hotel while they figured out what to do next, they said their goodbyes.

'Oh, they'll be fine,' the Doctor said in a mysterious tone as the cab pulled away.

Rose raised an eyebrow. 'What'd you do?'

'Nothing, really,' the Doctor shrugged. 'Only when I was in the White Star office the other day, I changed their arrangements from sailing on the _Titanic_ this week to sailing on the _Olympic_ next week. The new tickets are in Daniels' pocket, and they won't lose any money cancelling plans.'

'Show-off,' she accused good-naturedly.

'That's that dealt with,' the Doctor said, pretending to dust lint off his coat. 'Nice little time-loop hat-trick.' His expression darkened. 'We've still got to get on that boat, though. Gotta deal with that vitavore and we've got to do it fast. On the off chance it survives the sinking, it could end up in America – and it might kill someone important to history in the meantime. Plenty of children on this ship – children meant to grow older.'

'But Doctor – the ship's gonna sink, we can't…' Rose trailed off. 'I know I'm all kitted out for it, but I so don't want to end up clinging to a chunk of wood in the middle of the Atlantic.'

'You won't,' the Doctor assured her. 'We can still get off at Cherbourg or Queenstown. Those are the two stops the ship makes before finally heading out.'

'Oh… well, all right then.'

'For the record, they both could have survived.'

'What?'

'The characters in the film. If they hadn't been so busy making doe eyes at each other, and stuck the life jacket under the plank, they both would've made it. That was just the director being a twat.'

'For someone who thinks the film was a load of tripe, you know a lot about it.'

'Haven't you ever been bored? It was either that or engineering an elaborate game of cat and mouse with Sherlock Holmes, and that's already been done.'

'Sherlock Holmes? Really?' Rose inquired. 'I thought he was made up.'

'And that's why we're adding him to the list of people to meet…'

* * *

**AN: **As treat for the fashion enthusiasts, I'll be posting Rose's outfits on my Pinterest. You can find all of them (as I add them) under my Rose Tyler Clothing Ideas board. As for this chapter, you can find them here:

1912: pin/393713192400418396/

1912 # 2: pin/393713192400418059/


	8. Chapter Eight

'_I got you away from that other time, didn't I?'_

* * *

Rose had to run to keep up with the Doctor's long strides, but she didn't mind. His uncaring attitude and businesslike expression parted the crowding masses better than a plough. As long as she kept at his heels, holding on to the back of his coat so as not to be separated from him, she mustered through just as easily.

Upon reaching the boarding plank where crowds of passengers were queued, the psychic paper did its job – with only a slight pause on behalf of the steward checking them in.

'Mr Forman?' the young man frowned, looking at the Doctor and Rose, and then down at his ship's manifest. 'It says you and your wife checked in an hour ago.'

'Must be another Forman – can't imagine we're a rare breed,' the Doctor grinned disarmingly.

'It must be a mistake in the book,' Rose added. 'I bet you lot – I mean, you crew members are all _so_ exhausted getting the ship and everything ready to go out. Maybe someone got distracted and checked in the wrong people?'

From behind them, other people were complaining about the delay, and the steward seemed to decide this wasn't the place to chase down a problem with the paperwork.

'That's probably it,' he agreed. 'And your ticket's obviously genuine, so I'll simply make a note of it and have another member of the staff look in on you after boarding. They will come to call upon you in your stateroom.'

'Sounds good,' the Doctor said, pulling Rose along. 'Cheerio!'

They were a few paces away when Rose quietly prompted, 'Wife?'

'Better than prostitute, don't you think?' the Doctor returned, unconcerned. 'Lucky for you, large age gaps are common in this day and age.'

'Lucky for you, you mean,' Rose teased. 'You get to walk around with a beautiful young blonde – isn't that every man's dream?'

'Human men, maybe,' the Doctor rolled his eyes. 'And you – bit of a high opinion of yourself, don't you think?'

'Not really. It's just something some bloke said to me once. Rather nice compliment, actually, considering.'

The Doctor frowned in confusion. 'Considering what?'

'That he was alien,' she told him, tongue between her teeth. For a moment he didn't appear to get the joke, but when the penny dropped he favoured her with his own wry smile.

'Think you're so clever, do you?'

'I am so clever! Superior human intellect, me!'

But her teasing impression of the Doctor trailed off as they stepped off the gleaming gangway and onto the floating palace that had been called unsinkable.

Rose had never been one of those kids that was obsessed with the story of the _Titanic_. Still, even she couldn't help the gooseflesh that travelled up her arms and the back of her neck at the sight of the ship's interior.

'Oh, she was right!' she breathed.

'Who was?' he questioned as they dodged the moving crowds of other passengers.

'The old lady in the film – you really _can_ smell the paint!' Rose beamed.

'Are you going to compare everything you see around here with that bloody film?' he grumbled. 'It got more wrong than it did right, as you'd be able to tell if you were paying attention.'

'I am paying attention!'

They squeezed onto the deck which was already packed with other passengers and the uniformed White Star employees. For the longest time, Rose craned her neck to see if she could catch sight of the vitavore again, but it seemed finding anything in this din was impossible.

'When's it leave?' Rose asked over the din, figuring the Doctor would pick her voice up out of many. 'Be nice if this lot could clear out.'

'She tries to leave at noon, which is right about –' the Doctor trailed off, glancing down at his watch. The deck beneath them shook and there was a roaring blast from three of the ship's four funnels, and they were moving, ' – now.'

'What do you mean, "tries"?'

He pointed out over the side of the boat and into the harbour. 'See for yourself. You're gonna want to watch this.'

'See what?'

'You're about to see what's known as a 'bad omen' to the more superstitious folk.'

He leaned closer, so that he was speaking low enough that no one else could hear. She shivered a bit as his cool breath brushed the back of ear.

'See that smaller liner a ways out?' He was pointing at a boat in the distance; she could just make out the name _New York_ on it. 'As the ship picks up speed, the turbulence from her propellers will get so strong that it snaps the mooring lines of the smaller one.'

The boat in the distance seemed to suddenly head straight for them.

'Will it crash?'

'Comes within two feet of hitting it before the _Titanic _puts on some speed and the tugs come get it. It delays the _Titanic _for about an hour, though, which means we get some extra time to explore. Vitavore or not, I really don't want to be on this boat again longer than I have to be.'

'You were here before?'

'Yep. Few centuries back. TARDIS materialised during the sinking and I ended up hanging on to an iceberg. Let me tell you one thing – as uncomfortable as that is, there's nothing near as painful as running into a past version of me.'

'Why?'

'Think about it – if you ran into yourself from two years ago, d'you reckon you'd be best mates?'

Two years ago she had been shacked up with a musician, ignoring all of her friends and family, hiding finger shaped bruises under long sleeves. All the while, trying to tell herself that it was what she wanted. The memory of that version of her was enough to make her shudder.

'Exactly,' the Doctor said, seeing her expression but probably not understanding the true reason for her dismay. 'Sentient creatures aren't stagnant – we change quite a lot within short periods of time. Two years for you is a bother – what d'you think a few centuries is to me? I'm a completely different sort than I was back then.'

'And meeting yourself is the most terrifying thing you can think of?'

'Y – well, no, now that I think of it. Facing your mum if I bring her back her daughter, all frozen like – that'd be terrifying,' he went on, as if he hadn't heard her. 'Forget slapping, I bet she'd take my head clean off. I've met giant praying mantises less violent….'

· ΘΣ ·

They spent the rest of the day exploring the "ship of dreams", trying to find the vitavore. The already difficult task was made even worse by the size of the ship and the sheer amount of passengers and crew on it.

Not to mention how strict the class divisions appeared to be enforced.

Whenever they were noticed in an area they didn't seem to belong to – which was often – a polite yet condescending White Star steward showed them to the proper area. The Doctor didn't even bother bringing out the psychic paper after the first time, preferring to go with whatever story he or Rose came up with.

Funnily enough, they were mistaken for each of the three classes at separate points throughout the day, and once for crew-members acting unbecoming of their station.

That one resulted in a rather long lecture from an irate, harried bedroom steward. The whole thing was made harder to endure because whenever he directed his attention to the Doctor, Rose made silly faces behind his back.

Which ended with them having to make a run for it before he called for his superiors. They took off across the outer deck, ducking through the packed walkways.

'Sorry!' Rose giggled as she bumped into an older, blond man on that occasion. 'Really need to watch where I'm going.'

'On the contrary, my dear, you run to your heart's content,' the man said, his thick German accent still somehow silken around his words. Obviously he was amused by the antics of such a young woman, unlike the disapproving old harridans watching them and whispering behind their hands.

The Doctor paid neither of them more mind than that, too busy looking around furtively and then shunting Rose into the passage that would lead to the second class lodgings.

He proceeded to knock on the doors of several staterooms, to see if they were empty.

'For after we find the vitavore,' he explained. 'We'll need to have a place to keep it once we've got him. And, if nothing else, at least you'll have a place to kip.'

'What, no First Class?' she pretended to quip.

'Can't – the real Formans are already aboard the ship, remember?'

'Yeah, but they've got to have some open rooms up there, don't they?'

'They do, but the thing about First Class, it's a bit like a club. Everybody knows everybody, and they all gossip their bored little hearts out about anyone they don't recognise. Seein' as how we're aiming to keep a low profile, that's the last thing we need.'

'Right…'

'And, for your information, Rose Tyler, the Second Class accommodations on the _Titanic_ were miles better than they were on any other ship of the time period.'

'Yeah? Must have some really expensive linens, then,' she deadpanned, reaching for a door and jiggling the handle.

The door flew open and something toppled out on top of her, causing her to cry out in surprise.

The cry turned into a horrified curse when she realised that it wasn't a thing that had fallen on her, but a person.

A body.

The Doctor was by her side in an instant, gently pushing her back and away from the figure. The skeletal, wraith-like visage all-but confirmed that it was their errant vitavore, but what concerned him was the iron pipe shoved through his chest.

'Dead,' the Doctor proclaimed.

'Then… does that mean… it's over?'

'Not even close,' the Doctor reproached. 'It means someone or something killed it. And the fact they knew what it was, means they knew it would be here.'

'And they took time to hide the body,' Rose gathered. 'So not a regular person, or they'd probably have freaked out and alerted the crew. And they'd've cordoned everything off.'

The Doctor nodded, approval and pride filling him although his humour remained black.

All of his previous _joie de vivre _felt like it had evaporated.

Though they had stopped one unfavourable outcome, the matter was anything but sorted. He still had questions and leaving the ship before he had them wasn't something he was looking forward to.

The Doctor and Rose hastened to move the body to an empty stateroom that wasn't likely to be opened before the night of the sinking. He would have liked to bury the creature properly, but time was of the essence.

He now had a killer of a completely different sort to find.

The vitavores weren't the perpetrators of this crime, it seemed, but had been just as victimised as the children they fed from. Someone else – or something else – had brought them to this planet and this time; some careless traveller, or perhaps one who had planned it that way all along, had taken them from their world and led them to their unwitting deaths.

The female, that had been self-defence. That Oswald woman had been trying to save his life, and the life of her charges.

But the male?

Someone had purposely killed him and then not even bothered to dispose of the body properly.

'Serial murderer on the ship?' he mused to himself. 'No, that sort's usually clever enough not to be so sloppy.'

'D'you think it's another vitavore?' Rose whispered as they climbed the steps to the topmost decks.

'Doubt it. Even if their kind practised cannibalism, there'd be signs. He'd have been sucked dry. No, someone ran him through with an iron pipe.'

'A bit brutal for this time period, ain't it?'

'What, you think you lot invented brutal murders?' the Doctor asked. 'Clearly you've never heard of Lizzie Borden.' He winced and gave Rose a searching look. 'What are the odds of you heading up to one of the lounges to wait if I asked you?'

'Slim to none,' she answered cheerily.

'Thought not.'

They rounded a corner.

'So who are we looking for?' Rose asked.

'No idea,' the Doctor answered. 'But if it's someone who knows about vitavores and how to kill them, chances are it's someone from the future. Meaning time travel. Meaning I can scan the ship for any spikes in artron energy and at least get an idea of _where_ we should be looking.'

'But not who?'

'Not 'til we get close enough. And that's where we need to be really careful, cos we don't want to tip anyone off that we're looking for 'em. Nothing more dangerous than a cornered murderer.'

'And on top of that we're running out of time, aren't we?' Rose asked as they climbed a stairwell. They emerged once more on the outer deck of the _Titanic_.

'Half a day before we absolutely need to get off this ship,' the Doctor agreed. 'If it comes down to it, I can leave you with the psychic paper when we get to Queenstown, I'll go on without you and –'

'No! No way! That's not happening!' Rose hissed. 'You're not leaving me behind and getting on a ship that's about to –'

Luckily, she stumbled into someone before she could give away the ship's eventual fate to anyone who might be listening.

_Honestly, Rose, a bit more tact when talking about the future, _the Doctor thought disapprovingly.

He reached out to steady her, only to have the victim of Rose's clumsiness beat him to the deed.

'Oh, sorry sir, I didn't mean…' Rose trailed off, clearly embarrassed. She was shooting the Doctor apologetic glances, no doubt aware of what she had almost done. He shrugged in acknowledgement.

'Quite alright,' a somewhat familiar accented voice said. The Doctor looked over to see that the same German man that Rose had knocked into a few hours earlier was helping her straighten up now.

He was also smiling at her with something like intent.

It made the Doctor narrow his eyes, ready to open his mouth and tell this interloper exactly where he should put his helping hands. However, the stranger took a decorous step backward and chuckled, now eyeing the Doctor with that same look.

Unexpected, considering the time period, but not the strangest thing to ever happen, he supposed.

'Got yourself out of that spot of trouble?' the man asked quietly.

'Looks like,' Rose said, her smile only a little bit tight. She was still trying to be polite.

The Doctor had no such qualms. 'Yeah, not now, mate. The lady and I are busy.'

'Oh, of that I'm sure,' the man said, eyes focussing like a laser on the Doctor. If he wasn't mistaken, underneath it he could detect something like… familiarity? 'Awful lot of running to do, at your age. I bet your lives are full of it.'

Something tingled at the back of the Doctor's mind, something he hadn't noticed before. Something, he understood now, had been trying to make itself known since he got on the ship. He had ignored as residual awareness of the encounter with his second incarnation.

The man was once more focussing his attention on Rose. She stared back at him unabashedly, the slightest wrinkle in her brow suggesting she had noticed that this exchange wasn't just a simple matter of jostling a stranger.

'You never know what sort of things you'll find, investigating the nooks and crannies of such a fine ship,' the man said, his gaze never leaving Rose's face.

'… yeah,' she repeated doubtfully, seeming torn between trying to look at the Doctor questioningly and keep her eyes on this man.

'They say this one is supposed to be unsinkable,' the stranger went on. 'I'm not convinced, though. Something as crude as iron could never be a _master_ of the seas.'

The niggling feeling in his mind finally clicked..

At the same moment the awareness hit him, his mind automatically reached out to brush the other in the expected greeting. Just as instantaneously, a fiery brand of pain slithered through his being, almost like someone pressing a finger into a fresh bullet wound.

The Doctor fought back the impulse to cry out at that, forcing all of his attention onto what was presently happening.

'Rose, go check that our stateroom is secure,' he ordered. Never mind that they had technically not gotten around to finding one for themselves, he just needed her out of danger and away from _him_.

'Oh, he's rather commanding, isn't he?' the German chuckled at Rose. 'Best do as you're told before you're punished, my dear.'

The Doctor noticed Rose's fists clench, though whether it was at the stranger's rudeness or the Doctor's order, he didn't know.

'Rose…' he trailed off.

Perhaps something of his desperation leaked through into his imperative because she nodded and then did exactly as she was told. He didn't look away from his adversary to ensure she went back the way they came, but he didn't need too; he could hear which path her feet took.

It wasn't until she was completely out of earshot that he rounded on the irritating blond man he had believed to be an ordinary human until a minute ago. The one who now smiled slyly at the Doctor, like this whole matter was a joke and he was tickled to death to find himself in the middle of it.

Persistent rage and disbelief warred for control within the Doctor, stoppering his rage until he managed to spit out one word. 'You!'

'Always with the surprise,' the Master sighed dramatically. 'It's as if one day, you really expect me to stay dead.'

Fury and disbelief warred for supremacy within the Doctor's hearts. Along with the briefest flicker of hope until he understood that the Master wasn't inhabiting the same timeline as him.

An echo, then, not another survivor.

One was just as dangerous as the other, unfortunately. Possibly more so now that the timelines were so scattered. The Master wouldn't be able to tell that from wherever he was in the time stream. Still, if the Doctor didn't ensure this encounter went exactly as it was supposed to go, he might accidentally unravel an entire section of the Web of Time.

'Perhaps one day you will,' he said neutrally, considering his old adversary.

It had to be some point before the Time War for him that much the Doctor knew for sure. And judging by the fact that the body he was in was clearly not Gallifreyan, he was only a possessing consciousness right now.

'Must be after San Francisco for you, then,' the Doctor remarked idly. 'If you're still possessing bodies – sure you don't want to go for another swim in the Eye of Harmony, then?'

'Why Doctor, are you asking me back to your TARDIS? That's a rather forward of you. A very different tune from usual.'

'Separated from the TARDIS right now – thank Rassilon for small miracles. But you – what are you doing here?'

'This regeneration of yours gets right to the point, doesn't it?'

'You'll see how much if you don't answer my questions.'

'Promise?' the Master smiled that terrible smile of his.

'I doubt that body of yours would hold out.'

'Well, I'll be sure to take my vitamin supplements then. They do make me feel awfully _young at heart_.'

The Doctor frowned, confused at that, before the implication hit him.

'The vitavores,' he realised. 'It was you. You're the one who brought them here.' A white hot fury simmered within him. 'You're sending them out to feed on the life forces of children, and syphon it back into you.'

'Oh, the cleverness of you,' the Master drawled indifferently.

'They're children!'

'Not to the vitavores, they aren't. As I recall, the word they use is _delicieux_.'

'They can't sustain themselves on human life forces for extended periods,' the Doctor lectured. 'You're killing humans and poisoning vitavores, all so that you can cling to life! You know how wrong that is.'

'Know? Yes – care? Not so much – not until they get sloppy,' the Master replied. 'The last one… well, he attracted all sorts of unwanted attention. Yours, per se. I can't very well afford that at the moment, what with my delicate condition.' He ran his hands suggestively down his body, winking at two scandalised looking women who meandered past them. 'As I'm a bit weak right now, I wouldn't be able to do a thing about it.'

'That's new. You would never admit something like that to me before.'

'You were never this damaged before,' the Master smirked. He tapped his temple. 'You feel as feeble as a kitten in here. Oh, do tell me, Doctor – what happened? I can only hope I was the cause of it.'

'If you knew, you wouldn't wish it,' the Doctor hissed, and perhaps with so much truth that the Master's expression momentarily flickered to something like alarm.

'I suppose I'll find out at some point,' the Master eventually said, feigning indifference. 'Once I'm more myself, you see.'

'I'll stop you.'

'Oh, you could, Doctor – your really could,' the Master chirped eagerly. 'But then, I don't imagine you will. See, I know something you don't and it's directly related to the safety of your chavvy little midlife crisis. They do keep getting younger, don't they?'

The Doctor's hearts clenched, insight hitting him that it had been far too long since he'd last seen his companion.

'What did you do to Rose?' he growled.


	9. Chapter Nine

**AN: Cheers for taking the time to read this story! Special thanks to Son of Whitebeard, Dreamcatcher49, TiaKisu, BlueStoneShiningWolf, Amydiddle, SelimPensFiction, Em979, and Guest for your kind and encouraging comments!**

* * *

'_I got you away from that other time, didn't I?'_

* * *

'You always think the worst of me,' the Master mused in a light tone that he meant to be disarming, but which made the Doctor tense reflexively. 'Why would I bother with your little goldfish?'

'You've done it before every chance you had – should I list the number of my friends that you've killed over the years?'

'Oh, let's not, that's rather dull,' the Master said, wrinkling his nose and examining his nails. 'Although, on reflection, you do have a thing for blondes, don't you?'

'If you've hurt her –'

'Why would I hurt her? There would be nothing in it for me – especially as I'm perfectly aware that I'm only an echo to you right now,' the Master remarked innocently. 'Our timelines are quite out of sync – or can't you sense it?' The Master considered him coolly, his usual madness banked behind deceptively deadened black eyes. Realisation sparked in them. 'Oh, no, you can't, can you? Because you're ignoring your time sense – now why, oh, why would you do that?'

'Echo or not, you stay away from Rose,' the Doctor growled.

The Master snorted. 'I've no intention of doing anything to your little bit on the side –' The Doctor started to speak, but was cut off. 'And before you start moaning and groaning about not being able to trust me, I'll tell you why: I owe her.'

'You… what?'

'Quite. Let it never be said I don't honour my debts, and she'll do me a great one. Or already has done, from my perspective at least, seeing as I've got absolutely no idea when you are in your timeline right now,' the Master went on.

'And you won't.'

'Yes, yes, Laws of Time and all that boring nonsense,' the Master sighed. 'You're so predictable, Thete.' The Doctor flinched, and the Master grinned at him, shark-like. 'Actually, I suppose it would be best to say I owe _you._ Because if not for you, she wouldn't even be there in the first place.'

The Doctor tensed at this, and as usual, the Master noticed. His grin widened.

'I bet that makes you feel so much better. You, with your constant, unending guilt and righteous notions – now what do you do?' the Master adopted an exaggerated, thoughtful expression. 'I can hear the rusty old cogs in that brain of yours whirring – you want to discover what I mean! Should you take her back home? Drop her off into whatever mediocre life you plucked her from? Or is that exactly what I want you to do? Is that how I get to her? Perhaps you should keep her close, stick to her like a burr – only that wouldn't do either, because it'll drive her away. It always drives them away when you hold on too closely, Doctor, or don't you remember?'

The Doctor clenched his fists.

And then, as usual with the shifting, mercurial moods of the Master, his old friend and enemy had pulled away from him and gazed out across the sea.

'The most painful is yet to come, and I fully intend to let you both live to endure it.' The Master looked up, smiling unpleasantly to the Doctor. 'You might want to go save your assistant now. I saw a rather suspicious looking character wandering around here earlier.'

The Doctor made an aborted move toward him. The Master sniggered at that; it was an incongruous action for his sombre looking body.

'Oh, but you have a decision to make now, don't you? Do you stay and babysit little old me? Find a way to control and contain me – and trust me, I'll kick up a fuss. This sack of meat is a rather important businessman at the moment, and you'll attract so much attention you might derail the history of this lovely ship.' Off the Doctor's surprised expression, he chuckled. 'What, you thought I didn't realise? Give me some credit, Doctor, I chose this ship to escape the fuss in Europe _specifically_ because of the tragedy about to unfold here. Can you imagine all that chaos and pandemonium? It will be easy for me to find a new body and set myself up in a lucrative position. Did you hear that Jack Astor's here tonight? Such an important man… the whole of the twentieth century would be different if he survives, I think.'

'You wouldn't.'

'Well… I might. Depends on who else I find on this little dingy. Now, you can stay and play with me as I _know_ you're _dying_ to – really, we can investigate the Turkish baths. Delightful what the prosaic little cockroaches can come up with in the name of sloth – but I have a suspicion you will want to find your _friend_.'

The last was said with such lewdness that the Doctor had to force himself to keep from attacking the Master.

'You said you wouldn't harm her!' he snarled.

'Oh, I said _I _wouldn't_. _But hungry vitavores "jonesing for a fix"? They'll go after even the older apes if they have to. See, you were so clever finding the other two, but there's a third vitavore in my back pocket. And this one's a lot better at getting the job done than the others,' he lowered his voice conspiratorially. 'You know how mated pairs are – _so_ desperate to save one another, they stop following orders. But the third one? Well, he's a bit more of a free agent. Rather like you and me, eh, Doctor?'

The Doctor knew the minute he turned the corner, the Master would disappear. He would track down his next victim, and now that he knew the Doctor was on the ship, he would stay hidden.

But no matter how many bodies the Master stole, he was bound for the Time War the same as every other Time Lord had been.

And the Doctor had promised Jackie Tyler he would keep her daughter safe.

Mouth set, he deliberately turned his back on the Master and walked away.

'Well, can't say I'm surprised,' he heard his old enemy taunt. 'It's what you do best, isn't it Doctor? Running away?'

'Maybe you should try it sometime,' he replied quietly, ready to let that echo from what had never been fade to the back of his mind.

He should have known that it wouldn't be that easy.

'Officer! Officer!' he heard the Master cry out suddenly. 'That navvy there has picked my pocket!'

Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor saw several white-clad White Star personnel head for him. He let out a Gallifreyan oath that had the Master giggling and took off through the crowded decks in search of Rose.

· ΘΣ ·

Rose wasn't quite sure how she'd ended up in the cargo bay of the _Titanic_. She didn't even remember how she'd gotten the idea, or how she'd found her way through the confusing corridors below decks. All without being caught by any of the crew members!

The last thing she recalled was talking to that strange German bloke with the Doctor, and then it all went blank.

'Nothing for it then,' she decided, staring around the crates and pausing to admire the car she'd ended up in front of. It looked exactly like what she remembered from the movies. She couldn't help having a bit of giggle at the idea of perhaps sneaking inside and pressing a handprint into the window.

_Not that anyone but the Doctor would get the joke_, she thought with a shake of her head.

There was a clattering sound from somewhere nearby, and she froze.

She wasn't alone.

_Oh, not this again_, she thought, looking around the shadows and dark spaces of the cargo bay. _I swear, if I run into any more Autons – _

There was a flash of movement, and Rose found herself thrown up against the cold wall of the cargo bay.

She barely caught her breath before her assailant appeared in front of her – _another vitavore!_

The creature was right there, in its feeding form, its spindly fingers clawing at her shoulders while it tried to pry her mouth open.

Her jaw clenched shut, Rose struggled to reach for something – a weapon, anything heavy – to get it off of her, but she already suspected there was no use.

Her lips parted and she felt something being drawn out of her, almost as if all the sensation in her body was being dragged out through her mouth. As a cold, empty numbness took hold of her, the world went grey around the edges of her vision.

_So this is how I go_… she thought grimly, even as she tried to call up the last of her energy to hit ineffectually at the thing killing her. _No chance to say goodbye to Mum… to the Doctor…_

There was a slamming noise somewhere to her left.

'Awful forward of you, making a lady dinner without being introduced,' the familiar and very much welcome voice of the Doctor intoned coolly.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she made out his silhouette and the bright blue light that suggested he had the sonic screwdriver pointed at the creature.

'Now – I'd be much obliged if you let my companion up. You're doing as much harm to yourself as her,' he declared. 'If you give yourself up, I can help you! I can bring you back to where you're supposed to be. My ship can –'

Rose saw right away that the creature would not listen because its grip on her tightened and it turned its head back to face her. The cold, sucking feeling began again and she continued to struggle against the thing.

'Doctor –!'

Just when she was wondering what he was waiting for, there was another familiar noise – the whirring of the sonic– and a loud clang.

A metal pipe from up above burst free.

It swung downwards at astonishing speed, impaling the creature and sending it backward with a muffled shriek.

With the weight gone, Rose scrambled away on her hands and feet, gaping at the thing.

The Doctor was at her side instantly, turning her to examine her.

'Are you all right?' he asked. The screwdriver whirred again. 'Hm, your cortisol levels are higher than I'd like, but that'll sort itself out on its own.'

'What…' she coughed, clearing her throat. 'How'd I get down here? Last thing I remember… Doctor, that man….!'

'I know,' the Doctor said grimly. 'Don't worry about it. S'all been dealt with.' He nodded over at the dead vitavore.

'Doctor, why…' Rose trailed off, a bit unsure how to ask the question. 'Why did you give it a chance? I mean, it probably killed the steward and all those kids. Probably more people we don't even know about.'

There was a pause a bit longer than was standard before the Doctor spoke.

'I needed to find out if there was any hope of saving it,' he told her, voice heavy. 'Their kind might survive by feeding on the life-forces of sentient beings, but if it's the wrong sort, it makes 'em sick. A bit like existing on junk food and cigarettes. They crave it, but it warps their bodies and minds every time.'

'Like an addiction?'

'Exactly. And just like with an addict, there's sometimes a point during which they can still be saved. But this one… this one was already at the point where it just didn't care anymore. It was too warped.'

There was such a heavy sense of resignation in his voice that Rose turned to him. 'Doctor?'

He was staring off into the middle-distance, eyes hard and jaw clenched tightly. She had come to associate this particular haunted look with memories of his past. 'If it had taken the chance… I might've been able to save it. I'm so tired of bringing death wherever I go.'

She didn't know what to say to that, and so reached out and grabbed hold of his hand.

'You don't,' she said after a moment. 'Just saved my life, yeah? Counts for something.'

'Yeah, but with you, that's almost as easy as breathing – you're always in trouble,' the Doctor quipped back, and the haunted look faded somewhat. This time when he faced the dead body, he looked resolved. 'Gotta take care of that.'

They hid the body in one of the crates within the cargo area, considering the ship would sink anyhow. The Doctor left it open so that the salt water that eventually filled the area would eliminate any further trace of the vitavore.

'I'm exhausted,' Rose groaned as they slipped back out into the main hallways. They made their way down the walk, moving casually and with all the confidence that they belonged there. 'I can't wait to find a nice bed and sleep until –'

'There might be a problem with that plan,' the Doctor said, sounding a bit sheepish.

Before she could ask what he meant, the silence was broken by a loud, 'Oi! You there!'

'Run!' the Doctor ordered, grabbing Rose's hand and hauling her after him.

'Take it they found out we're not who we said we were?' Rose gasped as they took off in the opposite direction.

'Something like that!'

People ducked aside, trying to avoid what was turning into a full-fledged chase scene on the famous decks. Rose wondered dimly if anyone would write about this in the accounts of the _Titanic_'s maiden voyage. She couldn't help grinning at the idea that she was part of such a landmark occasion.

Trouble and running for their lives aside, she loved travelling with the Doctor!

Inevitably their luck seemed to run out. There were only so many places one could run on a ship before people noticed, or before one's pursuers got clever.

As they ducked down an outer staircase on the promenade they found their way blocked by a barred door. The Doctor rummaged through his jacket, trying to find the sonic or the psychic paper, but Rose could tell he wouldn't get to it in time.

She noticed a dark, shadowy corner beneath the stairs and pulled the Doctor into it. It was only at the last second she noticed that the entire scene was being watched. Several yards away, a floppy-haired young man in a tweed coat and round spectacles gaped at them.

_Bollocks! _Rose thought, stomach sinking even as the Doctor pulled her around, shielding her with his body. Maybe he thought if he got her far enough into the shadows, no one would notice her when they finally found him. _Fat chance of that with a witness._

She could still see everything unfold, though, peeking through a gap between the Doctor's arm and his body.

The stewards that had been following them paused in front of the young man when he flagged them down. There was a flurry of movement and wild gestures, and then he pointed in a completely different direction from where the Doctor and Rose were sequestered.

There was another outburst of sound, and to Rose's disbelief, suddenly the pursuing crew-members disappeared.

The strange young man turned around and stared directly at where they hid – and was it just her, or did he seem a little familiar? More than familiar, she could have sworn – he put a finger to his grinning lips, and then turned and sauntered away.

The Doctor was muttering a curse under his breath in a language Rose didn't understand; it didn't sound as thankful as she thought it should.

'What just happened?' Rose asked as they crept out of their hiding spot.

'… just how many… on this bloody ship… chin… midlife crisis…!'

'Doctor?' she questioned.

'Just the bounds of probability being tested, Rose,' he assured her grimly. 'Happens a lot around me. Don't worry about it – c'mon, let's find somewhere to hide out 'til the ship docks.'

They spent the hours until the _Titanic_ reached Queenstown dodging the disgruntled White Star crew-members that were looking for them. At the expected landing time, and with a bit of careful planning, they slipped aboard the small liner ferrying the Irish passengers from Queenstown onto the doomed ship.

Rose felt a little sick looking at the families piling onto the Titanic. Something must have shown on her face, because the Doctor murmured, 'Don't worry, Rose, we'll get to land without being caught.'

'I'm not worried – you always get us out,' she answered earnestly. 'But all those people – I saw a mum just now with five kids – none of 'em could've been more'n ten. They're all gonna die, aren't they?'

The Doctor said nothing, but this time it was him that took hold of her hand to offer silent comfort.

It was a little easier to breathe once they were no longer trapped on the doomed ship.

Once they docked in Ireland, it was just a matter of charting a course back to London and the TARDIS. With the help of the psychic paper, the Doctor easily booked passage back to Southampton on the next steam ship out. He even procured a cabin so that Rose could sleep.

After they found their way to their lodgings – little more than a berth, really – Rose collapsed on the bunk with a grunt of satisfaction.

'Where're you gonna sleep?' she asked, as she always seemed to when they spent the night away from the TARDIS.

'Not tired, me,' he answered. 'Might explore the ship a bit. Foil another alien invasion if there's one on.'

'Mm… have fun,' she yawned, curling onto her side.

'What, no insisting I not do anything without you?' he asked, half-teasing. It was a change from everywhere they had been so far.

'Too tired. And comfy… just… don't forget me here, m'kay?'

Her voice was small, partially from exhaustion but also with the smallest trace of uncertainty. There was a question there, one that had disguised itself as a command in the past few days after every adventure.

It wasn't Rose asking that he not have any adventures without her – it was her asking him not to leave her behind. Breaking her out of a CIA holding cell, returning to save her from a volcanic eruption and finding her before an alien sucked the life out of her had assuaged her fears of abandonment enough that she was asking him in plain English.

The Doctor seemed to sense she wasn't just talking about the ship, but everything – everywhere they would go and everything they would do.

'I could never forget you, Rose Tyler,' he told her. The words rang in her ears like a promise.

She smiled at that, and not long afterward the last strings of consciousness lost their grip on her.

To her surprise, he was there when she woke, looking at her with an expression of one trying to figure out an incredibly complicated problem. When she asked, he shrugged it off.

'Tryin' to predict the exact second you'd wake up. Was off by an hour. You do like to sleep, don't you?'

Rose shook off the criticism, knowing that harping on about supposed human deficiencies was just a sign that the Doctor was functioning normally.

They took their breakfast in their cabin; the Doctor had told the crew that she wasn't well. Once they finished, he led her back up and onto the promenade deck.

It wasn't half as new or impressive as the _Titanic_ had been, but the fact that she knew this ship wasn't doomed by history made up for that.

Rose leaned out over the railing, inhaling the sea air and squinting into the distance as the shore got closer and closer.

'Look, Doctor! I can see it!' she cried suddenly, pointing toward the docks excitedly.

A passing crew-member gave her a funny look, but upon meeting the Doctor's gaze, it turned into a knowing grin. Perhaps he thought the Doctor was chaperoning some dimwit that had never been on a boat before or an easily impressed socialite, but Rose ignored him. Instead, she looked up at the Doctor and her heart warmed at the slow, genuine smile of his own that appeared.

Because the Doctor understood that it wasn't the docks Rose was gesturing at, but the distant speck of blue that was his frankly magnificent time ship.

* * *

**Thanks for reading my story! Reviews, constructive criticism and even fanart are always welcome! For news, fic updates and other minutae, follow me on Twitter erthechilde.**


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